


By the Grace of

by Marwana



Series: Falling and Rising [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marwana/pseuds/Marwana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have the stories in which one of the Shinigami's (Undertaker most of the time) adopt Harry, train him and help him defeat Voldemort. What would happen if Sebastian was Harry's father?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By the Grace of

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to either stories.

**By the Grace of…**  
  
“I seem to have finally found you, my little demon,” a soft, smooth baritone almost cooed and Harry whirled around as fast as he could while making sure that he didn’t lose Riddle out of his line of sight. Luckily, Riddle seemed to have decided that the newcomer was more dangerous than a twelve year old boy without a wand and he too had turned around to face the voice, _his_ wand trained into the direction the voice had come from.  
  
Harry waited with bated breath and tensed muscles as the sound of footsteps neared them. His eyes flicked towards Riddle. Did he know what was happening? The way he acted made him doubt that, but still one could never be _too_ sure.  
“Show yourself,” Riddle commanded after a couple of seconds in which the person had yet to show himself.  
“Does the little demon want me to show myself?” the voice asked, clearly amused by the situation.  
“I order you to show yourself,” Riddle nearly hissed as his eyes narrowed and Harry’s wand shot green sparks thanks to his rage. Harry couldn’t help but gulp as he noticed that the Slytherin’s eyes had started to turn red.  
“I don’t believe I was talking to you,” a smirk was clearly heard in the intonation when the voice answered.  
  
Harry blinked as the meaning of the man’s – because it sounded as a man – words became clear to him.  
“Potter wants you to show yourself,” Riddle’s voice had gained an annoyed and high pitched quality to it, the latter similar to how Voldemort had sounded when he had met him last year.  
Harry just wished he could disappear. Preferably with a living and not possessed Ginny in tow.  
“Ah, ah,” the voice sounded again, “I didn’t hear him say that.”  
  
“Come out now or I _will_ kill you,” Riddle said clearly angry before a dark smirk made his way onto his face, “or maybe I should just kill Potter. Would that make you come out of your hiding place, hm?”  
“I would like to see you try,” the voice sounded after a couple of seconds. It still contained that amused tone but it had gained a certain quality that Harry recognized as one that meant that the speaker knew something they didn’t. He just hoped that whatever the man knew it didn’t end up with _him_ wounded – or dead.  
  
Riddle snarled at the shadows before he trained the wand once again on Harry.  
“Last chance,” he stated as the tip of the wand turned green.  
“Do you want me to show myself, my little demon?” the voice asked curiously. It took Harry a couple of seconds _before_ he realised that both men were waiting for his answer – which was slightly uncharacteristic from what he knew about Voldemort.  
“Er… yes?” he finally managed to say, though his voice sounded feeble and weak to his own ears.  
  
The soft sound of shoes on stone sounded again and a tall – he easily reached the 1 meter 85 – and thin man dressed in the classic uniform of a butler stepped out of the shadows. His hair was as black as the shadows behind him and hung in slight disarray towards his shoulders. His eyes were the same bloody red as Tom Riddle sported on the moment but his seemed to glow and had a slight _diabolic_ gleam to them. The fact that his pupils were slit didn’t really help either. His shoes were neatly polished and gleamed and his hands were covered by white gloves.  
“As my little demon wishes,” he finally purred as he stopped a couple of meters away from them.  
  
Riddle once again trained his wand on the man, “who are you and how did you get in here?”  
The man smirked, “Me? I’m just one _hell_ of a butler.”  
  
It was after his words that time seemed to get fast paced. Riddle had fired some kind of green spell in the general direction of the newcomer while the newcomer had somehow dived towards Riddle while dogging the spell – throwing something at the other while he dogged in a show of superior mobility. Harry sincerely doubted that the man was human.  
The only thing Harry could actually see from the very short and very violent fight that followed were the flashes of light that Riddle kept firing at the stranger and the black blur that the other man had become.  
  
The fight was over in a little under twenty seconds and when the dust had settled and Harry’s eyes had finally readjusted to the low light – the flashes of the spells had given him sunspots – all that was left of Riddle was a little black book, ripped to pieces and oozing ink.  
  
The stranger dusted his clothing of – some ink had splattered on his shoes but he didn’t seem to care – as he stared down on the book.  
Harry shifted slightly and the stranger’s attention snapped towards him. He couldn’t help but freeze under those terrifying red eyes – they frightened him more than Voldemort’s ever had – as they studied him to check... something he wasn’t quite sure about.  
  
Finally after a couple of minutes of looking him over the other opened his mouth, “you were quite the surprise, my little demon.”  
Harry blinked at him, still too surprised by the turn of events and too weary and frightened to do much more than study the man for eventual attacks.   
  
The first thing he noticed was that the man’s eyes had darkened to a dark red – almost brown – colour and that his pupils had become round. Not that _that_ helped him calm down.  
The second thing he noticed was that the man was relaxed and that he kept his hands visible as if to show that he was not a threat. Harry didn’t quite believe the posture, not after he had seen the man move meters in a blink of an eye.  
  
The man took a couple of steps forward but stopped as he noticed the almost rabbit-like actions – Harry had been about ready to bolt as soon as the man had started to move – of the young boy in front of him.  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man stated amused but Harry kept watching him wearily.  
  
Another silence fell, only broken by the soft dripping of the water in the Chamber and Harry’s fast, shallow breaths as he kept his attention on the man. The other just watched him, completely amused by him though there was something else in his eyes too. Something Harry didn’t even try to figure out.  
  
The silence was finally broken by the sound of Ginny regaining her consciousness.  
“It seems I’ll be leaving you at this point,” the stranger said casually, “but know this: now that I’ve found you I won’t lose sight of you again!”  
He seemed to fade away before his very eyes as the man stepped closer to the shadows, “I’ll be watching you.”  
Harry stumbled back as those words only to whirl around at the sound of someone moving behind him.  
He breathed out a sigh of relieve as he noticed that it was just Ginny.  
  
The man was gone when he turned around again.  
  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
It was a couple of years later that the man reappeared. Or maybe ‘showed himself again’ was a better term, as Harry had always felt as if he was being watched ever since the man had first appeared to him in the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
It had been a couple of minutes after Voldemort’s resurrection and he had been lecturing his followers and taunting Harry when a particularly loud caw of a crow had been followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground just behind the gravestone Harry was tied to.  
  
Voldemort fell silent and turned towards the gravestone – and thus Harry, but he ignored him – as he ordered sharply in his high, cruel voice, “Crabbe, take a look.”  
One of the Death Eaters bowed lowly before he made his way over towards Harry and started to circle around the gravestone. It didn’t take long before he had disappeared completely out of Harry’s line of sight.  
  
Everything was silent except for the soft breathing of the people in the graveyard and the sound of Crabbe’s heavy footsteps and his feet disturbing the dead leaves on the ground.  
It was a couple of minutes later that the man returned to his place in the circle, unharmed and empty-handed.  
  
Voldemort took this as a sign that there was nothing out of the ordinary and that they were alone – well, except for the small party around him and Harry – and continued with his speech about his own greatness.  
It wasn’t long after that, that he turned towards Harry and Harry felt a spike of pain shoot through him originating from his already burning scar.  
“Harry Potter,” he said softly as he made his way over towards the boy, “only known survivor of the Killing Curse.”  
Silence fell as he stopped right in front of him, not that Harry could see him very well through his pain blurred vision.  
  
“Why did you survive when no one has before? That question kept me busy all the time when I was just a spirit,” Voldemort continued, “but the answer is so simple. It’s all thanks to the sacrifice of your mudblood mother.”  
The Death Eaters burst out in loud, vindictive laughter but Harry ignored them all as he tried to glare towards the blurry blob than he knew to be Voldemort.  
“And now I’ve the very same blood that contains the sacrifice flowing through me,” Voldemort stated darkly amused as soon as the Death Eaters had fallen silent, “which means that I should be able to do _this_.”  
As soon as he was finished with speaking he lifted his hand and deftly pressed a single finger against Harry’s forehead.  
  
Harry’s head felt as if it was about to burst open as the pain flashed through him and his vision turned completely black. But he was aware enough to vaguely hear the high laughter of Voldemort and the cruel laughter of the Death Eaters.  
And he was most definitely aware enough to hear the soft, “not quite.” which – even though it was softly spoken – seemed to be heard by everyone present.   
The laughter died down almost immediately.  
  
Voldemort withdrew his finger from his forehead, which caused the pain to lessen and as the pain slowly lessened it finally clicked inside Harry where he had heard _that_ voice before.  
He closed his eyes as the memories of _that_ evening came back to him and he shuddered. He hadn’t felt safe ever since he had met the man he had met that day.  
  
“Show yourself,” Voldemort snarled angrily as he drew his wand and pointed it towards the direction the voice came from.  
“This brings back memories,” the voice commented lightly and it sounded as if it was moving, “does the little demon want me to show myself?”  
A smirk could be heard in the voice and Voldemort shot some kind of red spell towards the last location of the voice.  
“Hm, missed me,” the voice said amused, “want to try again?”  
“I want you to show yourself,” the snakelike man hissed.  
“Ah, but it doesn’t matter to me as to what _you_ want,” the man said, “I only care about what my little demon _wants_. But seeing as he is a bit tied up… very well, I’ll show myself.”  
  
And just like two years ago he appeared out of the shadows, though this time the shadow was cast by a large tombstone. The man hadn’t changed a bit. His hair was the same length, his cloths seemed to be the same and his eyes, while not the frightening red with the slit pupils, had the same diabolic gleam in them.   
All wands were trained upon him the moment he had appeared but he still made his way over towards the small group.  
“I suggest you stop and explain why you are here,” Voldemort stated neutrally.  
The man stopped behind one of the lower gravestones, about ten meter from the Death Eaters.  
“Why I am here?” the man asked as he cocked his head slightly, closed one of his eyes and placed a finger against his lips, “the ‘why’ is actually chained to a gravestone.”  
Voldemort turned towards Harry, his eyes narrowed in thought.  
  
“Are you here to free him?” he finally asked as he turned his attention back towards the stranger.  
“Now why would you think that?” the man asked darkly amused as he started to walk again and rounded the low gravestone until he stood in front of the small group.  
“Stop, or I _will_ kill him,” Voldemort threatened.  
“You will try,” the other said, a dark smirk curling his lips.  
  
Voldemort snarled at him – a crazed gleam in his eyes – before he turned back to Harry, “ _Avada Kedavra_!”  
Harry eyes widened as the green beam left the wand and made its way over towards him. There was no way he could escape it when he was chained to a gravestone but he wiggled in an attempt to get loose anyway.  
  
Suddenly a black blur made its way over towards him and the spell – which should have hit him – hit the stranger whom had dived in front of him.  
Harry expected the man to drop dead as soon as he had realised the Killing Curse had hit the other but the man remained standing in front of him, _alive_.  
“Demon,” Voldemort hissed sharply and he barred his teeth.  
  
Harry stiffened slightly at the term as the many stories he had been told about the inhabitants of Hell sprung forth in his mind, not one of them positive or good. The worst thing was that his aunt and uncle – who weren’t even that religious – always told him that he would be going to Hell after he died and that the demons would enjoy torturing him.  
  
“Why does one of the darkest creatures to ever roam Earth defend a light wizard?” Voldemort asked and Harry could hear the curiosity in his voice. It seemed that the Dark Lord had relaxed after his initial shock, though his wand was still pointed towards the black-clad creature in front of him.  
“He is mine,” the man – _demon_ – drawled silkily, “and what kind of butler would I be if I couldn’t even defend what belongs to me?”  
Voldemort stared nonplussed at him, “you made a contract with him?”  
Harry couldn’t see the demon’s face but the fact that the Death Eaters he _could_ see twitched and flinched said enough.  
“Not quite,” the demon said mockingly though the amusement had returned, “want to guess again?”  
“So you’re not collared,” Voldemort murmured pensively, “but you still defend a human.”  
  
The demon turned around until he came face to face with Harry, his back turned towards Voldemort and the Death Eaters.  
“Let’s continue this in a more… _comfortable_ place, shall we?” the demon murmured and, with a flick of his hand, the ropes around Harry disappeared.  
Harry felt himself fall forward as the ropes supporting him suddenly disappeared and his leg gave out underneath him. Just as sudden as the ropes had disappeared did he find himself bridal style in the arms of the demon.  
  
Harry started to squirm immediately but the demon just tightened his grip on him and forced his head in the crook of his neck. This only made Harry squirm harder but - as he was already weak and sore thanks to the spider, the still oozing wound on his arm, Voldemort touching his scar, the fact that he been tied to a gravestone and the magic he had had to use - his movements became sluggish and weak rather quickly. After a couple of seconds he stopped his fighting and relaxed unwillingly back into the tight hold. His eyes closed not long after that.  
  
“Where is your base of operation?” the demon asked Voldemort as soon as Harry lay almost limp in his arms.  
“The mansion,” Voldemort answered and even though he was tired Harry still heard the irritated and angry tones in his voice.  
  
The demon started to move, mindful of his precious burden and Harry could hear the footsteps of the men following them.  
The smooth swaying of the demon’s walk combined with the soft lull of the background noises and his tiredness soon made him doze away, even though he knew that that was the worst thing which could happen.  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort watched silently as the demon – he hadn’t asked his name and he doubted that he would get the being’s real name if he did – placed the sleeping brat-who-wouldn’t-die down on one of the many, dusty couches the parlour contained before he took one of the blankets and tugged him in.  
It was _strange_ to see a creature as dangerous as a demon care for such a slip of a boy, especially because he seemed to care _genuinely_ for the child. Voldemort wondered what kind of demon this one was: the born kind or the fallen kind.  
  
He had sent the Death Eaters away as they were not useful on the moment. He was more than aware that the demon could kill him even when he did have his followers around him and he couldn’t give them their orders when the Potter boy was still around.  
  
“You mentioned that he belongs to you,” Voldemort stated, genuinely curious, as soon as the demon had seated himself gracefully next to the sleeping child, “but you aren’t contracted to him. So how does he belong to you?”  
The demon chuckled amused, “humans can belong to us in multiple ways. When we are collared as you call it, their soul belongs to us. Care to guess for the other ways they can belong to us?”  
Voldemort frowned at him as he sunk into his thoughts and memories. He could admit to himself that he didn’t know a lot about demons but he was planning on rectifying that now that he had met one.  
“I would say ‘body, mind and soul’,” he murmured pensively.  
“You missed one,” the demon said and he bared his sharp teeth in a grin before he added, “he is mine by blood.”  
  
He blinked at him, honestly surprised by the answer, “how can he belong to you by blood?”  
“I’m only telling you this because I do not want to kill you. You and your followers amuse me after all,” the demon smirked darkly, “my last contractor was a witch. A jealous witch who wanted to marry the man of her dreams: James Potter.”  
“You were contracted to Lily Potter?” Voldemort gaped at him.  
“No, I wasn’t contracted to Lily Potter,” the demon told him, “it doesn’t matter who I was contracted to, all that is important is that she ordered me to split up James and Lily Potter in such a way that he would never want her back. On her orders I tried a lot of things. Nothing worked so the witch ordered me to do the one thing which would break up any marriage. She ordered me to get her pregnant.”  
  
“You raped her,” he deadpanned.  
The demon threw his head back and laughed, “would that surprise you?”  
“No,” Voldemort admitted, “it really wouldn’t surprise me.”  
“But no, I didn’t rape her,” the creature told him, “we demons are seductive creatures, not unlike your vampires. It wasn’t hard to convince her to have sex with me – and to continue with having sex with me – until I got her pregnant.”  
  
“But Potter didn’t divorce her,” Voldemort told him confused.  
“He didn’t,” the demon said with a slightly puzzled look, “she told him of the fact that she had slept with me and she told him that she was pregnant with _my_ child – though she didn’t know who or what I was. But while he didn’t like it, he accepted her apologizes and when my little demon was born he loved him like he was his own child.”  
  
Voldemort stared at the boy resting peacefully, “so he is part demon.”  
The demon hummed lightly in response.  
“Why do you care for him?” Voldemort asked genuine curious, “aren’t demons supposed to be cold, cruel beings?”  
“We rarely procreate,” the demon told him, “so every child we get is precious to us.”  
  
“Why are you telling me this?” Voldemort asked, suddenly suspicious. He had acted terribly out of character for him when he had allowed the demon in the mansion and he wanted to know why the demon had told him all this. Because there had to be a point somewhere.  
“Like I said: I don’t want to kill you, you are amusing,” the demon stated as the dark smirk returned and his eyes turned to the bloody red, slit eyes that had given away what he was, “but, I’ll have to if you keep threatening my child.”  
“You want me to stop trying to kill him,” Voldemort hissed and he narrowed his eyes, “you ask of me to let the one person who can vanquish me live.”  
 “I ask nothing of you,” the demon growled lowly and Voldemort shrank back slightly as the room darkened and black feathers started to descent from above, “you have a choice: either you stop coming after him or you die.”  
“I’ll stop hunting him,” Voldemort conceded, aware that the demon would kill him if he _didn’t_ stop hunting the boy.  
  
The demon bared his teeth at him in a mockery of a smile, “good.”  
He rose from the couch and gathered the boy in his arms before he stalked away through the door without looking back.  
“Does he know?” Voldemort called after him, aware that the demon would hear him.  
The demon stopped and turned slightly towards him, “no, he does not know.”  
  
Voldemort watched pensively as the demon turned back around and continued walking. He would have to change his plans.


	2. Teachers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood, death and gore.

The summer before his fifth year was the weirdest and most confusing summer so far as he was bothered by the many questions and the strange things that happened around him which kept spinning around in his head. The fact that he had nothing to do just made it worse.  
  
The first thing that haunted him was the fact that he just didn’t know what happened between the time he had fallen asleep in the presence of the man who wanted him dead and a demon and the time he had woken up in the Hospital Wing.  
And that was what bothered him the most: why was he still alive? Why hadn’t Voldemort killed him? Had the demon done something? Or were the demon and Voldemort working together to end him?  
  
Dumbledore had asked him what happened but all Harry had been able to tell him was that Voldemort had returned and that he had no idea what had happened after that. Nor could he explain just _why_ he had managed to get himself a butler who wouldn’t leave him alone.  
Ron had been jealous and Hermione seemed to find it strange but Dumbledore let the demon – though no one seemed to be aware of the fact that he was a demon – near because the creature had told them that he had saved Harry from Voldemort. The others had looked at him strangely as they believed him to be a muggle or a squib but the fact that Harry was still alive seemed to somehow mean that Michaelis was speaking the truth.  
Harry had protested a lot but it seemed as if he was stuck with the damned creature.  
  
The second thing that bothered was the fact that the demon was always near him – visibly this time. He had yet to have even a single second alone; he woke up underneath the watchful gaze of the damn creature, he was dressed by said damn creature and he ate with the demon near him. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without being followed by the God-forsaken creature!  
  
The first time the demon had followed him into the bathroom had been an absolute nightmare. Harry had been barely awake when he had stepped underneath the shower in the Hospital Wing, only to jump out of his skin when hot, bare hands had started to wash his hair. He had turned around to scream at whoever it was to get out when he had met the amused, dark red eyes and froze like a deer in headlights. The demon had still been fully clothed – though he had gotten rid of the white gloves and the formal jacket – but he didn’t seem to care that his elegant clothing was getting completely soaked.  
Harry had finally managed to stutter that he wanted to be alone but the demon had just smiled that closemouthed smile, turned him around and continued washing him like he was some small child.  
He been completely mortified by the time the demon had turned off the shower and had wrapped him up in a large towel. Especially as he hadn’t even been allowed to dry himself of or cloth himself.  
The demon had been surprised when he had finally managed to stop stuttering and had yelled at him that it was not normal for a fully grown man to help a teenager shower and dress. In the end the creature had just shrugged before he shot him another amused, closemouthed smile and showed up the very next day to help him once again with showering.  
After the fifth time Harry had given up yelling at the thing and just let him be. Though he still hated it.  
  
The third thing that couldn’t leave him alone was that the demon had also taken over every single task Harry had to do. It wasn’t exactly a bad thing as he could laze around but it left him with nothing to do but his homework and stewing in his own somewhat destructive thoughts.   
  
When Michaelis had first appeared with Harry the Dursleys had been horrified and they had forcefully tried to get him to leave. They had stopped rather quickly with that though when they had found out that he was a) some kind of magical creature – they did not know what kind of creature he actually was – and b) far more useful to have around than Harry. The only downside was that he was always near Harry and that he only took care of the chores Harry had been forced to do for the last decade or so and nothing else. The other aspects they disliked was that Michaelis always gave Harry the best dishes even though they had tried to forbid him from doing so – they had found out he was a magical creature the one time they had tried to force Harry to hand over the food he had been given – and that he ignored every single order they tried to give him. And of course the fact that he was a magical being, but they seemed able to ignore that as the demon didn’t look like a magical creature, rarely showed that side of him and was an effective and fast worker.  
  
Harry couldn’t help but wonder just exactly _why_ the demon stayed near him. Was it because he wanted to torture him like the Dursleys had always told him? Or was it because of some other reason?  
  
The fourth thing which wouldn’t leave his mind was the time when he had been accosted by two Dementors. Harry had been ready to defend himself when the two soul-eaters had appeared but the demon had calmly stepped in front of him only to drive him towards a corner with no way out as the infuriating demon had blocked the only way out of the corner. He had then ordered him in a smooth baritone to close his eyes and keep them closed until he was told he could open them again. Harry had tried to protest against the order but one look at the suddenly demonic eyes – as he had dubbed the bloody red, slit eyes – had him obeying said order.  
When he had finally been allowed to open his eyes again he had stared around with his eyes wide and his mouth open in confusion and surprise but most of all fear. Because in front of him was all that was left of two of the most dangerous creatures he had ever heard of – two completely shredded capes, some puddles on the ground filled with gore and some kind of darkish liquid and drops of the same gore and liquid and bits and pieces of the Dementors everywhere – and one still clean but smugly smiling demon.  
Harry had been sick for days after that particular incident and he still couldn’t look at the demon without feeling fear creep up his spine. It didn’t exactly help that the hands that had ripped the feared guards of the worst prison ever apart were used to clean his body.  
  
The being scared him more than Voldemort ever could and Michaelis seemed to be completely on his side on the moment.  
  
All those things didn’t exactly calm his nerves and the fact that he was now staying in a dark, dank, dirty and dusty house with his mass-murdering godfather – who was actually innocent – and a large family of redheads, a muggleborn witch, an ancient, crazy house-elf, a screaming portrait and one crazy demon and finding out that the Ministry not only didn’t believe him when he said that Voldemort had returned and that they blamed _him_ for the demise of the two Dementors made it only worse.  
  
In the end, the Ministry couldn’t convict him for anything. His wand came up clean, their sensor came up clean and even under Veritaserum did he keep to his word that he had no idea how the Dementors ended up in pieces. Add that not even the Unspeakables knew of a way to kill Dementors and they had to drop all of the charges they had managed to think of.  
Sadly enough, being freed of all charges didn’t mean that they believed him and his name was still dragged through the mud by the press.  
  
Yes, weirdest summer ever.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
The school year started as every other year. The new students were sorted and the new teachers were introduced. But that was where the normality ended. The new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher held some kind of speech, Sebastian Michaelis was introduced as Harry’s new butler and personal servant – which only caused people to either look weirdly at him or to protest as they saw it as him being favoured by the Headmaster, no matter how much Harry protested that he didn’t like it either – and people wouldn’t stop looking at him like he was some kind of deranged freak.  
Add that Dumbledore was ignoring him and that the demon was still treating him like he was some kind of small child and Harry didn’t know what to do with all the angry energy fluctuating just underneath his skin.  
  
That angry energy exploded from him on the first day during the first DADA lesson when he shouted at the pink toad from Hell – though the demon told him that she didn’t actually come from Hell – that Voldemort _was_ back. She just looked at him before she told him sweetly that he shouldn’t lie and gave him a detention.  
  
So that was how he ended up in the worst place ever: an office coated in pink and decorated with plates and tiles with kittens on them. The only normal things were the large, wooden desk in the middle of the office and the stone fireplace.  
The toad was seated in a large, gilded chair behind the desk and she looked up as he entered.   
  
“Take a seat, mister Potter,” she told him sweetly and Harry walked forward grudgingly and sat down on the chair she had indicated. The demon had entered after him and gracefully made his way forward until he stood at attention at his right hand just behind the chair.  
“Mister Michaelis, I must ask you to leave,” the woman simpered, “you see, I believe in equality so it is hardly fair that mister Potter had his own servant, now is it?”  
“I am sorry madam, but it is the task of a butler to stay with his charge,” the demon told her smoothly before he cocked his head and placed one of his fingers against his lips as he smiled that closemouthed smile of his, “and what kind of butler would I be if I couldn’t do that?”  
Umbridge looked flustered and she blushed lightly – which was beyond gross and horrifying – but she managed to say, “I have to insist.”  
  
The demon bowed forward until his lips almost touched Harry’s ear and Harry couldn’t help the shiver that ran along his spine as Michaelis said, “does my little demon want me to leave?”  
“Just leave,” Harry managed to say warily.  
“As you wish,” the demon said and with another respectful bow left the room.  
  
“Now that that is taken care of,” the toad said sweetly as she finally managed to wrestle her control back, “I want you to write the line ‘I must not tell lies’.”  
She took a scroll of parchment and a black quill from besides her and shoved them towards him.  
“How often?” Harry asked her.  
“Until the message sinks in, I believe,” Umbridge told him and that sugary sweet smile appeared on her face.  
  
Harry couldn’t stop the shudder of disgust that raced through his body but he took the quill and quickly scanned the desk for ink.  
“You haven’t given me ink,” he said after a couple of seconds, before he added, “professor.”  
“You won’t need it,” she told him and he couldn’t help the small thrill of fear that shot through him at the malicious, satisfied tone of her words.  
  
He warily placed the quill on the parchment and started to write, only to gasp in pain and shock as he felt small pinpricks of pain originating from his right hand, the hand he was using to write the sentences down.  
He looked towards his hand and gasped again as he noticed that the words he had written down had also appeared on his hand.  
His head shot up so he could look at the woman and he opened his mouth to say something but he quickly clicked it shut as he noticed the satisfied look in her eyes.  
  
“Is there a problem, mister Potter?” she asked.  
He gritted his teeth and said, “no, professor.”  
“That why don’t you continue,” she simpered.  
Harry ground his teeth together but did as she ordered and wrote down the sentence down again and again while ignoring the sharp pain and the blood that started to flow when he had finished his thirtieth sentence.  
  
It was four hours and over seventy sentences later that she finally made him stop.  
She forcefully grabbed his hand and pulled it towards her, squeezing his hand and forcing more blood to flow from the wound as she inspected the deep scratches.  
“Yes, I believe this will do,” she murmured softly as she released his hand, “same time tomorrow, mister Potter.”  
“Yes, professor,” Harry managed to say before he stood and left the office in a hurry.  
  
He didn’t notice the demon resting against the wall as he stormed past him and he didn’t notice that suddenly red, slit eyes that immediately latched onto his bleeding hand.  
The only thing he notice was the dull throbbing of his hand and the blood that seeped along his hand and onto the floor.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
It was that same evening that people started to become wary of the demon.  
  
Seamus had been bothering Harry about what exactly had happened during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament and Harry had exploded.  
“It’s fine if you won’t believe me,” he shouted at the other boy as he furiously ripped his Gryffindor tie away while ignoring the deft hands that had started to unbutton his shirt, “but I did _not_ kill Cedric!”  
He slapped the demon’s hands away – smearing blood on his otherwise spotless gloves – and stormed off towards the bathroom, but not before he heard Seamus grumble, “attention seeking prat, it’s not like he told us what truly happened. And why does he even have a servant? Too good to do the normal things like undressing himself?”  
  
He slammed the door close after him, locked it and rested his head against the mirror for a couple of minutes of blessed silence - to enjoy the fact that he was finally alone - before he continued with undressing and making himself ready to go to bed.  
  
When he emerged from the bathroom some twenty minutes later it was to the deadly pale faces of his roommates and the dark smirk and bright, amused eyes of the demon.  
He looked around in suspicion – his gaze moving from person to person – before he shrugged and walked towards his bed so he could get some sleep.  
  
The demon approached him under the fearful eyes of his roommates – whom quickly turned their gaze away as soon as the demon cocked his head slightly towards them – and crouched down before him. He took his wounded hand gently to check the damage.   
Harry watched his roommates in curiosity, as not even Ron dared to meet his eyes, only to stiffen in surprise as he suddenly felt a dextrous tongue lick the wounds.  
“What are you doing?” he whispered harshly and he tried to retract his hand.  
But the demon just adjusted his grip and pulled his head slightly back so he could look at him. His eyes were once again filled with amusement – as seemed to be his wont – though they had turned to their demonic red.  
“Cleaning your wound,” he purred, “can’t have my little demon get some infection, now can I? Nor can I have scars mar your skin.”  
  
Harry stared at him in complete bewilderment as the demon once again lowered his head and licked his wound until all the blood was gone and the scratches had stopped bleeding.  
It was only then that the demon released his hand – which Harry quickly cradled against his chest – and rose from where he had kneeled down.  
“Do you need anything else?” the creature murmured softly and Harry quickly shook his head.  
“Good,” he said briskly before he added, “don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”  
Harry just blinked at him before he quickly crawled underneath the blankets, ready to leave the horrible day behind him.  
Michaelis tucked him in – much to his mortification – before he had bowed gracefully and left the room to do whatever demons did once they weren’t bothering innocent fifteen year olds.  
  
A tense silence fell in the dorm room until it was finally broken by the hesitant words of Ron, “are you sure that he is human?”  
“Why?” Harry asked warily.  
“It’s just-” Ron tried to say but Seamus interrupted him harshly, “he’s bloody scary! He fucking _threatened_ us! What is he?”  
“A demon disguised as a human,” Harry answered dryly, aware that they wouldn’t believe him.  
“No seriously, what is he?” Seamus repeated.  
Harry just shrugged as he had known that he couldn’t possible convince them, “I don’t know. A crazy person?”  
  
The boys grumbled but they dropped the issue, aware that they wouldn’t get more information out of Harry. But Harry noticed that – after that evening - they fell silent and their eyes grew wide and fearful every time the demon turned to look at them.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
The next day Umbridge was found dead in her office by a brave third year Hufflepuff who had gone into her office to look for the woman when the teacher failed to show up for her class.   
Silver cutlery knifes were sticking out of multiple places in her body – including both her hands – and her body was liberally coated in blood. The only piece of her that was still visible through all the blood was her head, though a dark brown, strangely gleaming quill had been forced through her left eye and a lopsided pentagram was cut into her right eye.  
A large, black feather lay on her chest. It gleamed otherworldly in the light and it had a strangely malicious aura.  
  
It didn’t take long before the screams of the horrified third year student reached the ears of another teacher and it was soon after that every student was sent to their Common Room, the poor student who had found her was sent to the Hospital Wing and the Aurors were called to investigate.  
  
After a couple of minutes they had determined that it was either the quill in her eye or the silver knife through the heart that had been the cause of her death.  
They also managed to identify the quill as a so called blood quill, a dark item which was used in the Dark Period of their history to either steal the blood of people to use for Blood Magic or to torture a person. Nowadays it was used by the goblins to verify if someone was truly who they said they were.  
The last thing they managed to establish was that the feather they found on the body belonged to no being found on Earth. It contained truly dark, dangerous and malicious magic but even the Unspeakable they had dragged into the investigation to identify it didn’t know to what unearthly creature it belonged.  
  
They also didn’t seem to know what to make of either the strange feather or the pentagram cut onto her eye but they decided that it was just the signature left behind by the killer.  
  
Harry – who had been the last known person to see her before her gruesome murder – was interrogated but he knew nothing about her murder except what everyone else knew.  
In the end the Aurors had to concluded that she was murdered by muggle means - as no magic could be detected except for the spells Umbridge had fired towards her attacker - and the case remained unsolved as they didn’t know what to think of the strange feather or the pentagram.  
But Harry had his own supposition, though he never mentioned it or shared it with anyone.  
  
The students and the staff of Hogwarts remained tense and on their guard and many measures were taken to make sure that no student would be killed – not unlike during the opening of the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s second year – but after a couple of weeks in which no one else had been murdered the defences were lowered and people started to roam the school alone again.  
  
A new teacher was hired not long after the murder and life in the school went back to normal.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
Hermione became suspicious of Michaelis a couple of weeks after the murder.  
  
She had noticed the strange reaction of the boys towards the demon and she had seen the fear that appeared in Harry’s eyes every time he had to look at him. She had also seen the strange distaste Harry had for the way the being treated him.  
  
But what truly made her look at him weirdly were the things the demon said.  
The sentence “one Hell of a butler” was spoken rather often by the arrogant creature and it was always followed by a strange smile and a gleam in his eyes.  
Not only that but the demon spoke of happenings in the past as if he had been there. Add that he had a frightening large amount of knowledge of things he couldn’t know either due to his seemingly age or due to the fact that they were obscure or inside someone’s mind and Harry suddenly had one suspicious Hermione studying the demon – not that he minded.  
  
She had waited and collected information before she finally confronted both of them on a rainy Wednesday.  
  
“We need to talk,” Hermione said sternly as soon as she had neared the table Harry and Ron were seated at.  
“About?” Harry said distractedly as he watched his pawn get clobbered by Ron’s knight, “Knight to E7.”  
Hermione looked around before she said softly, “your servant.”  
Harry finally looked up, only to notice that the demon wasn’t near him, “what about him?”  
“Not here!” she hissed, “come on. I know an empty classroom nearby.”  
Harry rose from his seat and Ron made to follow his example but Hermione gestured for him to stay seated. Ron grumbled but one pleading look from Hermione had him caving in.  
“We’ll finish the game as soon as I’m back, all right?” Harry told him before he followed Hermione out of the common room and into the empty classroom. He studied the dusty blackboard – which contained some writing about a way to transfigure animals to inanimate objects – before he turned towards the brunette.  
  
“What about Michaelis?” Harry asked her stiffly.  
“Why is he always near you? Why does he treat you like a small child? And why does he call you ‘his little demon’? Why do you fear him? Why does Ron – and the rest of your roommates – fear him? What’s with that sentence of him being ‘one hell of a butler’?” she took a pause to breath, “why does he seem to know so much? Where is he from? How did he stop Voldemort from killing you? What is he? Muggle? Squib?”  
Harry raised his hand.  
“I don’t know,” he answered softly, “he just showed up one day and he just… stuck around. Dumbledore let him.”  
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Hermione pointed out.  
  
“I don’t know how he stopped Voldemort,” Harry said as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly, “and I don’t know why. I also don’t know why Ron, Seamus, Neville and Dean fear him. According to Seamus he threatened them but no one wants to tell me with what.”  
“Why didn’t you tell Dumbledore?” Hermione asked suspiciously.  
“I wanted to but Ron stopped me,” Harry said as he replaced his glasses.  
  
“Then why is he still here?” Hermione asked, “why didn’t you fire him?”  
“I don’t even pay him,” Harry laughed mirthlessly, “I don’t even want him here!”  
“Then why-?” Hermione started to ask but the door of the classroom opened to show the very being they were talking about.  
  
“There you are,” he purred as he entered the room fully, “I was looking for you.”  
“Why?” Harry asked warily.  
“What kind of butler would I be if I lost sight of my little demon?” Michaelis said and his lips twitched into a half smile.  
“Harry,” Hermione hissed from beside him.  
“Could you leave us for a moment?” Harry asked softly.  
“Of course,” the demon murmured and he bowed politely – his hand placed on his chest above his heart – before he left the room. He closed the door behind him.  
  
They waited in silence for a while before Hermione finally spoke.  
“That door was locked,” she whispered shakily, “I spelled it locked and placed wards on it to make sure no one could hear us and no one would think of seeking us in here. How did he find us?”  
“I-,” Harry said hesitantly,” he-”  
“You know what he is, don’t you,” Hermione said shrewdly, “but you don’t want to tell me.”  
“Yes,” Harry admitted softly, “it’s not that I don’t want to tell you but…”  
“You can’t,” Hermione finished.  
“Yes,” Harry said tiredly.  
“Is he dangerous?” Hermione asked.  
  
Harry laughed hollowly and said, “let’s get back to the common room, shall we?”  
Hermione searched his face and it was clear that she didn’t like what she read there but she nodded and together they made their way out of the classroom, only to be met with the darkly amused gaze of a certain demon.  
  
“Finished your talk?” he drawled.  
“Yes,” Harry answered curtly as Hermione once again studied the being in front of her.  
The demon’s amusement seemed to rise a notch and a smile made its way onto his lips.  
“Can I help you, miss Granger?” he asked and he raised an elegant eyebrow.  
“Huh? Oh, no! Just- no everything is fine,” Hermione nearly babbled.  
Harry stared at her in surprise before he asked, “you alright?”  
“Yes, fine,” Hermione said flustered, “let’s go!”  
And she took off without waiting for Harry or Michaelis.  
  
The demon stepped forward until he stood next to Harry.  
“What a strange girl,” he mused, “and suspicious.”  
Dark amusement suddenly coloured his face and he barred his teeth in a smile, showing of the two sharper and longer than normal canines.  
“My, whatever would happen if she were to find out?” he continued.  
  
“Leave her alone!” Harry nearly snarled towards the demon and he turned sharply so he could glare at the creature.  
The demon turned towards him and Harry almost stepped back in fright as he noticed the demonic eyes and the suddenly very sharp teeth.  
The demon prowled forward which made Harry take a step back, and another and another until he was caged between the frightening being and the wall.  
Michaelis lowered his head until it rested next to Harry’s ear.   
“Don’t worry my little demon,” he crooned as he softly and gently nuzzled his neck, “I will not harm her if it’s not necessary.”  
Harry started to squirm, “let go of me!”  
But the demon just laughed softly and kept nuzzling him.  
  
“Harry!” Hermione’s voice suddenly sounded and the demon’s head rose from Harry’s neck and Harry’s head turned quickly towards the sound.  
“Coming!” Harry answered and he started to squirm harder until the demon finally released him.  
Harry quickly took off after his friend, not even bothering with waiting on the demon.  
  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
He watched in silence until his little demon had disappeared from his sight, though he could still hear the pounding of his feet on the stone.  
  
His little demon’s scent had changed since the last time that he had smelt it clearly – during that moment in the house of the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. It wasn’t the only thing that had changed. His blood had turned a bit more sharper, a bit more spicier and the temperature had risen slightly. Not enough for his little demon to notice but enough that _he_ noticed.  
Add that the child’s eyes had flashed red for the shortest moment when he had told him to stay away from his friend and he knew for sure. His little demon was growing up quickly.  
  
It was nothing too strange. The amount of anger the little one was feeling would do that to any being carrying demon blood.  
He smirked darkly, at the rate his little demon was maturing he would be fully grown in a little over a decade. But it would probably be longer as no _human_ being stayed angry that long.  
Until that time, his little demon stayed just that: his little demon. His to care for, his to fight for, his to play with and his to protect. _His_!  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
Draco watched jealously as the servant followed after Potter. The man was everything one wanted in a servant: handsome, always neatly dressed in always clean clothing, followed orders as soon as they were spoken, did everything needed before Potter could even open his mouth, carried the boy’s bag, served Potter his food as if he were a noble and he guarded him fiercely and possessively – though Potter didn’t seem aware of that. And he was magically powerful and smart, not like those disgusting house elves. Everyone else might _think_ that the man was a squib or – a shudder travelled up his spine – a muggle, but he knew better.  
He wanted him to be _his_ servant.  
  
He had tried everything. First he had offered to pay the man more than Potter paid him but the man had told him – _him_ – that he had no interested in either human money or serving him. How could he not want to serve him? He was everything a pureblooded wizard should be! He was handsome, powerful, wealthy, smart and had knowledge. Potter in comparison was weak, ugly and poor – who would want to wear old-fashioned shabby glasses or those holey, dirty, too big clothes – and he had to depend on a _mudblood_ to get the marks he got. Why shouldn’t he want to serve him?  
Draco just couldn’t wrap his mind around it.  
  
So he offered the servant everything else he could think of: women, slaves, _men_ , magical creatures, blood, power and some other things anyone else would have accepted.  
But the servant still declined and dutifully served Potter.  
  
In the end he had asked him what he wanted in exchange for his services. The man had laughed – _laughed_ , at him! – and told him that he could never pay what he wanted to have.  
  
Draco had doubted that very much – after all, he was rich and powerful, he could get his hands on everything he needed and if he couldn’t, his father could – so he kept pressing and pressing until the servant had told him darkly and rudely in a tone that suggested the _he_ was beneath the servant that even if he were capable of paying his prize he would never serve someone so arrogant, self-centred, one-dimensional and _dull_.  
He was not one-dimensional or dull, thank-you-very-much!  
  
He had owled his father that same night to make sure that – when he woke up again – the servant would be gone.  
But the damned man was still there the next day and the letter for his father that arrived during breakfast told him that not even his father – the second most powerful man in the world! – could get him to leave.  
  
So Draco tried to get the man to leave on his own. He tried to sabotage the man’s work by poisoning Potter’s food, by ordering the elves to switch Potter’s things and other things like that but Potter didn’t get sick and things that went missing showed up nearly as soon as they went missing.  
  
Thus he had put plan B in motion: get the teachers to kick the man out. He pointed out to Snape that it wasn’t fair that Potter had a servant but his godfather told him that Dumbledore had already brushed that argument aside. Stealing the items of teachers and placing them in the servant’s room didn’t work either because the servant _didn’t have_ a room. When he pointed that out towards Snape he was informed that the man _didn’t want_ a room.  
When he had asked where the man slept he had gotten the answer that his godfather didn’t know.  
  
The next person he had asked was McGonagall. She had told him that it wasn’t any of his business but he finally managed to gain the answer out of one of Potter’s roommates. The man never slept.  
  
He stared after the servant even after he and Potter had rounded the corner. It was clear that there was something _off_ about the man. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat and he didn’t want _human_ money or blood.  
So what could he possibly be?  
  
He shrugged and decided that it didn’t matter. The man would have two choices: he could either leave or he could become his servant. He would make sure of it!


	3. Love and Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: no warnings for this chapter.

Severus studied the Potter brat’s servant with narrowed eyes as he entered the room closely behind said brat and his friends.  
Both Dumbledore _and_ the Dark Lord had warned him about the seemingly muggle man and according to both he was more than he seemed to be.   
The Dark Lord had even gone so far as to warn every single Death Eater against attacking both the man and the brat he served with an ominous, extremely painful death as the motivation to leave them alone.  
  
His attention shifted from the servant towards the master and he sneered at the boy and his friends as they came to a stop at a couple of tables and argued softly about who was to sit where.  
In the end the Potter boy sat next to the youngest Weasley male and the know-it-all sat down in the row on front of them, next to the Longbottom disaster.  
  
His eyes once again glided back to the butler whom had chosen to stand behind Potter. He was dressed in the same clothes he wore every single day: a classical butler costume. His hair hung to his shoulders in slight disarray and his bangs framed his face. As always his clothes were perfectly pressed and his shoes gleamed in the light. He was lithely built but strong and he had heard more than a few girls giggle about how handsome the man was.  
His eyes trailed upwards only to be met with amused, reddish amber eyes. He sneered at the muggle before he turned his attention away towards the softly conversing students.  
  
He flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. A blessed silence fell.  
“I know that it had been said before but this is your OWL year,” he spoke softly as he stalked forward and came to a halt in the middle of the room, "at the end of this year only a handful of you’ll show that you’re good enough to remain in this class.”  
His eyes flitted to a couple of students in a meaningful way before he allowed them to rest on the students he knew would never make it. He sneered at them before he continued, “the recipe of the potion is on the board. Begin.”  
  
Students immediately started to scramble to get the needed ingredients without even checking the board. To his surprise, Potter’s servant was still standing behind the boy’s chair while the boy himself walked towards the closet to get the ingredients.  
The servant had his eyes trained firmly on the brat he served and he watched in morbid fascination as dark amusement appeared in those weirdly coloured eyes.  
  
Severus’ eyes followed the dark gaze until his eyes landed on his godson talking to the Potter brat. Draco was smirking as he said something and he watched as Potter’s eyes narrowed in obvious anger and his free hand balled into a fist. Draco’s smirk grew even nastier and as he walked away he deliberately walked into the Potter boy, making him bump into the table. A resounding crack sounded as one of the jars filled with hopping beans fell on the floor and shattered, causing the beans to land everywhere.  
  
“Potter,” he barked loudly, “you’ll clean that up, now!”  
Potter looked as if he was about to argue but the hand suddenly on his shoulder – courtesy of his butler suddenly appearing next to him – made him close his mouth. The butler whispered something in his ear and Potter nodded sharply.  
“And detention tonight,” he added maliciously before he turned towards the rest of the students, “for those who aren’t as clumsy as Potter here: continue with your potion! You have a little less than two hours left!”  
  
 **oOo**  
  
It was about an hour later that the Potter boy finally managed to catch up with the rest of his classmates.  
He was gleeful however to note that the boy’s potion was a bit too light blue and that if he didn’t act soon the entire potion would be completely useless. He would have to work hard to get it to be right.  
  
He noticed from the corner of his eyes how one of his snakes threw one of the ingredients towards the ‘Gryffindor’ side of the room. It missed the intended cauldron but he noticed how the Gryffindor to whom the cauldron belonged to – the black-skinned Thomas boy – jumped slightly as the ingredient hit his shin. The Slytherins snickered lightly at him but the boy wisely ignored them, though it was clear that he did so with some difficulty.  
  
He knew that every lesson the Slytherins would try to ruin – and succeed in ruining –at least one potions belonging to the Gryffindors. He always let them because he believed it to be a good lesson for the Gryffindors to pay more attention to their surroundings when they were making a potion.  
The fact that he also had other reasons to let the Slytherins do whatever they wanted was only acknowledged in the darkest realms of his own mind.  
  
Severus pushed himself away from his desk to walk around the classroom to criticize the potions. He stopped by several persons to comment on their potions before he continued. Especially Draco’s potion was a master piece, it was the right colour and the texture was just perfect.  
  
After a couple of minutes he finished his round and returned to his desk. He sat down and returned his attention to the strange specimen masquerading as the Potter brat’s servant. The man was standing there dutifully behind his master, just standing. He didn’t help him nor did he offer advice. He just stood there.  
  
He had heard from one of the first year Slytherins that Draco had offered the man a small fortune if he started to work for him but that he had been rebuffed. He knew that Draco had offered far more than just a fortune but still the crazy servant had declined him time and again.  
He had also heard from the gossipers among the teachers that the man had declined to have his own room and he had noticed Minerva wonder about where the man slept more than once.   
And he had managed to catch from one of the ghosts that the rest of the Gryffindor boys were deadly afraid of the man though no one knew why.   
Things just didn’t add up. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, he never seemed tired or weak and he was too attentive to whatever Potter needed. Draco was also convinced that the servant was _not_ a squib or a muggle but something magical.  
  
His eyes lowered until they rested on the Potter boy as he wondered how a slip of a child like that had managed to get a servant that well trained. The boy wasn’t overly rich or powerful nor had he anything to offer. So why would he have a servant and why would Dumbledore allow him to keep said servant? And why had Voldemort all but changed his plans to make sure the boy wasn’t harmed?  
  
His eyes once again rose to study the butler. Had the man done something when he had rescued the brat? What kind of power did the seemingly muggle man have that Voldemort would respect and even _fear_?  
All in all, Potter’s butler was an unpleasant enigma he wanted gone.  
  
A soft hiss sounded and he turned his attention towards it, almost glad for the distraction. Thomas’ potion had turned an outrageously orange colour and it was hissing and spitting dangerously.  
He drew his wand and vanished the potion.  
“Did you even watch what you added?” he drawled, “did you even read the instructions? Because if you did, you should have known that you were not _supposed_ to add anything to the potion at this point.”  
“But I didn’t add anything!” the boy protested.  
“Yes, clearly,” he told him disdainful, “five points from Gryffindor for lying to a teacher.”  
The Slytherins sniggered cruelly.  
  
“You failed this potion,” he continued, “pack your items, clean your desk and go.”  
The boy glared at him but didn’t react verbally as he started to pack his items angrily and with too much force. It didn’t take long before he stormed out of the classroom. He slammed the door closed behind him.  
  
“Continue with your potions!” he barked at the rest of them.  
The Gryffindors glared at him but they did bow back over their now softly boiling potion.  
  
He heard soft sniggering from the ‘Slytherin’ side of the classroom and he saw Draco nudge Gregory. Gregory turned towards him and Draco whispered something into his ear. They shared smirks and he observed as Gregory took one of the frog spleens and threw it towards Potter’s potion. The toss was perfect and he watched almost gleeful as he noticed the spleen sailing in a perfect arc towards the boy’s potion.  
It was about to hit the potion when a gloved hand shot out with inhuman speed and caught the spleen.  
Everyone looked shocked and awed at the man who stood bowed over the form of his master.  
  
“Careful there, little demon,” he purred in Potter’s ear though everyone could hear him, “we wouldn’t want to _cause_ an explosion, now would we?”  
He emphasised the word cause as his eyes shot towards Gregory and for a second they seemed to flash an unholy, gleeful, _murderous_ red. Potter seemed to have stiffened at his words but he didn’t react beyond the stiffening at the butler’s closeness.  
He straightened from his hunched over posture and placed the spleen on the desk. He studied his now dirty glove but didn’t remove it.  
  
“Carry on,” he hissed sharply, none the happy that the spleen had missed its target.  
He noticed how the Slytherins shared disappointed glances before they continued with stirring their now light purple potion.  
  
For a while nothing happened except the soft waving sound of the gentle stirring of potions and the soft noises of ingredients being sprinkled – or thrown – into potions.  
“Thirty minutes left!” he called out, “if you’re on track it would mean that the potion is now a dark purple and all that is left to do is to let it simmer for another seven minutes.”  
  
He once again stood to check the students’ potions and noticed that most of the Slytherins were at the mentioned point but that less than halve of the Gryffindor students were even close to finished with the potion.  
  
“Twenty minutes left!” He called out as he sat back down, “for those who are done: potions on my desk with the homework of last week!”  
He watched as the last people shared panicked looks before they turned back to their potions. Most of them were almost done but he could see that Longbottom’s potion wouldn’t be removed from the cauldron any time soon – not that he cared about that too much as he had a certain brat in detention he could order to clean it up later that day – and that Potter’s potion was still too light.  
  
The first of the students started to trickle away – most of the Slytherins – and soon the classroom was empty except for Potter, Longbottom and Finnigan.  
“Five minutes left,” he barked as he stalked towards them. The boys shared quick glances before both Potter and Longbottom scooped their potion in the flasks, or at least Potter managed to scoop it in a flask. Longbottom’s potion was far too viscous and hard to be of any use and he was close to panicking as he noticed that he couldn’t even get his ladle to scrap the surface of the potion.  
Potter shot him a pitying look before he too left, his servant on his heels.  
  
“Time’s up!” he sneered not five minutes later, “both of you, step away from your pathetic attempt at making a potion, place your homework on my desk and leave.”  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
It was a week later that he had the fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors again. All of them sat down in the exact same spot and they started as soon as he ordered them to.  
  
Severus warned them loudly for the volatile aspects of the potion but he was convinced that, by the end of the lesson, at least five potions had exploded.  
  
The first potion to explode belonged, not surprisingly, to Longbottom. The boy was a klutz on a normal day but for some reason he was even worse when he was around him. He sneered at the whimpering boy, cleaned the mess away and sent him to the Hospital Wing.  
  
The second potion to explode was, also not surprisingly, the one Finnigan was working on. He had heard and seen far too often how that Gryffindor was a master of making things – some of which weren’t even supposed to be capable of exploding – explode. Both he and his neighbour managed to get covered with the half-finished potion so he sent both of them to follow after Longbottom.  
  
The third potion to explode actually belonged to one of the Slytherins who was normally very good with potions. He couldn’t help but stare at Blaise Zabini as the boy blinked stupefied at the completely ruined – but otherwise perfectly made – potion. The only thing he had done wrong was the fact that lily leaves had been added on the wrong moment. He studied the rest of the class with narrowed eyes as he wasn’t willing to believe that one of _his_ snakes could ever fail a potion by adding an ingredient when it shouldn’t be added to the potion. He ordered Granger to help Blaise to the Hospital Wing – though he couldn’t find a single speck of potion on the Slytherin – before he turned back around to find the culprit.  
The rest of the class, though he focused mainly on the Gryffindors, were once again dutiful bowed over their potions – as they had looked up briefly as the potion exploded – and not one of them looked guilty.  
  
He continued his search with narrowed, disdainful eyes until he met the oddly coloured eyes of the Potter brat’s servant. The butler was watching him with what only could be described as hawk eyes but his eyes twinkled with satisfied amusement and a dark emotion he couldn’t – didn’t want – to understand. There was a hunger there, a lust for something he didn’t want to know. But there was also sharp disappointment.  
  
For all he could see the man had never moved away from his spot behind his spoiled master but he _knew_ that the butler had been the one to make the potion explode.  
He had all but threatened Gregory the week before when he had tried to throw something in Potter’s potion after all.  
  
The fourth potion exploded nearly at the end of the lesson when most of the Slytherins had already left the classroom as they were done with their potions. The Slytherins always were and they would always be the first one to finish the tasks he gave the class as he had tutored every single one of them since year one.  
However, to his surprise Draco, Vincent and Gregory were still present in his classroom, their cauldrons still full and their potions still simmering softly. The potions were done and perfectly made which made their presence that much more surprising.  
  
It didn’t take him long to figure out why they were still present however, as Gregory handed Vincent some leftover purple lily petals. The boy nodded towards Draco – who was carefully ladling some of his own potion in a crystal flask – before he took his homework and potion and walked towards the front of the classroom to hand in his work.   
  
On his way towards the front he passed Potter’s lightly steaming cauldron and Severus was sure that he noticed his hand drop something above the brat’s cauldron before he continued towards the front.  
  
He turned away towards the ingredient storage room immediately after he had witnessed the scene. He would hear the results soon anyway.  
  
An explosion rang through the classroom just as he had expected but it didn’t originate from where it _should_ have come from.  
He turned slowly towards the classroom, only to stop short at the scene in front of him.  
His godson and his friend were completely coated in the liquid, bluish, _acidic_ potion of Gregory and Potter’s butler was standing protectively in front of the brat – who had been standing right next to his own potion and in the line of fire of the exploding potion – shielding him from the potion which _should_ have hit him. The rest of the class were staring at the last Slytherins present in surprise.   
The butler straightened from where he was shielding his master and searched him for any wounds before he turned towards him with a darkly amused glint in his eyes.  
  
“What happened here,” he growled lowly, “never mind that, Potter, Weasley, twenty-five points from Gryffindor and three detentions each for deliberately ruining a potion belonging to a classmate.”   
Both boys looked up from their potions and protested loudly.  
“Another ten points each for lying,” he growled nastily,” now, help misters Malfoy and Goyle towards the Hospital Wing.”  
  
Both boys shared a helpless look before they looked at their nearly finished potions with resigned faces. Both sighed before they moved to stand. But a hand on the Potter boy’s shoulder stopped him from getting up completely.  
“My little demon is not going anywhere,” the servant told him blankly as he gestured towards the nearly finished potion the boy was working on, “according to the regulations of this _school_ students are to finish their potion before leaving the classroom unless it’s a life threatening situation. His life is not threatened so he is to finish his potion. According to those same regulations it’s the teacher’s responsibility to get the students to the Hospital Wing in case of an accident.”  
  
“I’m the teacher here,” he growled darkly as he stalked forward until he was in the man’s personal space and he reached for his wand.  
“Yes, you are,” the man said with a polite, close-mouthed smile as he stared down upon him. They were almost the same length but the man still seemed taller and more threatening without even trying than he could ever hope to be.  
“I believe some of your students are hurt,” the butler drawled as he cocked his head inquiringly, “shouldn’t you _help_ them before they are hurt even more?”  
  
He drew his wand and jabbed it into the man’s jugular. The man just kept smiling.  
“I don’t know who you are and why you have saved the brat but you are a _nobody_ here,” he hissed softly but furiously towards him, “I don’t care why Dumbledore lets you stay here or why the Dark Lord warned us off, but this is _my_ classroom and I’ll act as I see fit.”  
The servant just looked amused.  
“I’m the teacher here,” he repeated forcefully.  
The butler scoffed before he applauded mockingly and said in a derisive tone of voice, “and you’re doing such a fine job.”  
  
A pained moan reached his ears and he turned away from the brat’s servant with a nasty sneer. He wanted to hurt him somewhat badly but he knew that he would never survive it. The Dark Lord was anything but weak and it was quite clear that he was almost _frightened_ of the man. Curious beyond anything he had ever seen, but frightened.  
  
He flicked his wand twice until the two downed students were elevated into the air and he walked towards the exit of the classroom where he turned around to address the class.  
“I expect everything to be exactly the same as I left it when I return,” he snapped, “I suggest all of you dunderheads finish your potions, leave a flask on my desk, clean your workspace and leave the classroom!”  
  
He glared at all of them – but especially at the smug looking bastard of a servant – before he stalked away to get his godson and his friend towards the Hospital Wing.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
He sank into his chair with a annoyed sigh. Both Weasley and Potter had just left after he had them clean the cauldrons for hours. He had given them all of the dirty cauldrons he could find – he might have made sure that there were some _extra_ cauldrons that needed to be cleaned as well – and he had given them four hours to clean them all. He had been aware that they would never finish it in time and he had been looking forward to hand out some more detentions for working too slow but somehow they _had_ managed to clean them all in time.  
  
He suspected that Potter’s servant had helped them but the man had been spotlessly clean when he had entered the room after the four hours while both boys had been covered in stains and dirt.   
And he was sure that the man had no magic. He had fired some spells at him that would have told him what the man truly was and if he had magic after Draco had told him that he was sure that the man was no muggle. But his spells had told him otherwise. The first told him that the man was just that: a man. The second informed him that the man had no magic whatsoever in his body.  
He _couldn’t_ have helped them.  
  
The fire and all of his candles flickered briefly and he shivered as a cold breeze went through his room. He cursed darkly as all of his candles suddenly sputtered and went out. His room darkened as the fire in the hearth only provided warmth and nearly no light.  
“Such language,” a soft voice spoke from somewhere behind him.  
He drew his wand and stood slowly before he demanded to know, “who is there!”  
  
Cruel laughter sounded, “you were warned, were you not?”  
“You,” he breathed out in shock before he snarled and turned towards the sound, “how did you get in?”  
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said amused from the opposite of the room as the fire in the hearth flickered. He spun around and pointed his wand towards the place his voice came from.  
  
“So much like your master,” he sneered disgusted, “arrogant and so full of yourself, always trotting around as if you _own_ this place.”  
Soft laughter sounded before the steps of shoes on stone could be heard. Once again the sounds originated from behind him.  
He swirled around once again, only to stop short as sinister, _demonic_ red, slit eyes stared at him from the shadows and white, sharp teeth were bared in a malicious smile.  
  
His mind screamed out in fear though he was sure his face didn’t show it. He _knew_ what the being in front of him was though he had no idea how it had managed to get into the school.  
Demons were as rare as they were dangerous: extremely so. They were charming, capricious and morbid and they lusted for blood in such a way which would have made even a vampire flinch in disgust. They started the greatest wars known to mankind just because they were bored and they were known to murder entire peoples just because they felt like it. They were fast, strong and lethal _without_ even trying.  
And one of them was _right in front of him_.  
  
“H-how?” he whispered blankly, “how did you…?”  
“If you’re talking about how I managed to enter this _school_ ,” the demon drawled amused, “than I’ll have to say that it was rather easy. It’s not warded against my kind. I’ve been here since my little demon’s second year.”  
He stalked forward though he never fully left the shadows, “if you’re talking about how no one has found out yet: it’s because they don’t _want_ to know. They suspect that I’m more than just human but they don’t really want to know _what_ I am.”  
  
The demon cocked his head, “I’m curious however as to how you recognized what I am.”  
“Some of the muggles in the neighbourhood tried to summon a demon when I was young,” he told it emotionlessly, aware that the being would hurt him if he didn’t talk “they were just teenagers who had wanted to be popular. The occult was rather popular around that time and they just wanted to fit in.”  
He lowered his wand, aware that he could never harm the creature in front of him even if he wanted to – which he did so badly that it actually hurt. After a couple of seconds he sheathed it completely.  
  
“They managed to summon one,” he continued as he lost himself in that horrible memory he had always tried to forget, “it was-”  
He stopped talking and shuddered before he continued briskly, “I stumbled upon them accidently so they didn’t know I was there. I left as soon as I noticed what they were doing but not before I caught a glimpse of the demon they had summoned. They were found dead the next day.”  
  
The demon hummed lowly in what couldn’t be anything else but dark satisfaction, “than you know what I’m capable of.”  
“Why are you here,” Severus asked warily as he walked carefully towards the cupboard he stored his liquors in and took a healthy sip from a bottle of firewhiskey, “just kill me if that’s what you want.”  
The creature laughed cruelly, “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to give you a warning. I don’t care how much you hated James Potter, nor do I care how much you loved Lily Potter. Harry Potter belongs to me.”  
  
Suddenly the demon was in his face, his breath – stinking of decaying meat and blood and fire and _death_ – washing over his face.  
“He is mine,” he hissed dangerously, “and your petty behaviour and your lack of action against those who try to harm him are a threat to him. Had those leaves hit the potion the explosion would have hurt him badly even if I had shielded him. And I’m sure you knew this.”  
  
He took a step back and those red eyes darkened until they were the colour of old blood, “I’ll not hurt you. Like I told that Dark Lord of yours: you amuse me. But fail to take action and what I did to the last person who dared to hurt my little demon will seem like a – what is it you call it – a walk in the park.”  
  
The demon cocked his head, placed a finger against his lips and smiled what could only be described as a foxy smile, “but I’m quite sure that I don’t need to tell you that.”  
He took another swig of the firewhiskey, his hands shaking slightly.  
The being in front of him smirked at him, the two too long canines bared, “have a nice evening.”  
  
He bowed politely towards him, his hand on his chest before he smiled at him, turned his back towards him and walked away towards the door.  
He stopped just as he had placed his hand on the doorknob, “just one last thing: James Potter never was the boy’s father.”  
He released the knob and turned back around with a dark smirk on his face and a malicious gleam in his eyes, “Lily Potter was very _free_ with her body. Good night.”  
  
He nodded sharply at him and disappeared, leaving him alone in the darkness with his wrecked emotions and a bottle of firewhiskey.  
  
He slowly sagged to his knees until he was kneeling on the floor and he hugged the bottle closely to his body.  
“Oh Lily,” he whispered, “what have you done?”


	4. Murdering Bastards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: a lot of blood, death, gore and torture.

The rest of the school year passed as normally as a school filled with magical beings could hope for. The teachers gave homework and were harping about the upcoming OWL exams and the students were moaning and groaning about said homework, the lessons and the teachers. They were always looking forward to the next vacation or short period of time off.  
  
Though, there were some things that _had_ changed. Snape was still as nasty as ever but potions didn’t suddenly explode due to ingredients being added when they shouldn’t – courtesy of the Slytherins – and he seemed to have developed an even deeper loathing for the demon always following him around than he had ever had for Harry himself. And it was clear to everyone that he was wary – even _afraid_ – of the being.  
Harry wondered often if the teacher knew what Michaelis truly was.  
The demon, on the other hand, seemed to find it all very entertaining if the amused glint in his eyes and the almost predatory smiles were to go by.  
  
The new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, a cheerful, buxom, blonde woman, had arrived a couple of days after the brutal murder on Umbridge. She, like Umbridge, was a member of the Ministry but she didn’t remind them about it nor did she show it as often, though she did use the horrid book the Ministry had ordered them to read as material for the lessons.  
She wasn’t too bad but she couldn’t keep order and it was clear to everyone that she wasn’t made to teach.  
  
So they started to teach themselves in order to learn anything.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
By the time it was time for the OWL exams everyone was nervous.  
  
Harry had studied hard with the help of Hermione to pass them and he was quite sure that he would get enough OWLs to get into the NEWT-level subjects needed to become an Auror.  
So he sat down and wrote down everything he knew while praying that both Voldemort _and_ Michaelis – the damned creature had taken to feeding him things so he would fall asleep quickly only to wake him up _just_ in time for the exams – would leave him alone long enough that he could actually finish all of the exams.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
All of the exams, both practical and written, went quite well if he said so himself – except for his divination practical and his History of Magic written exam, but he believed that he still managed to get at least an A for both subjects.  
So now the many students were resting in the shade of the trees or near the lake, just enjoying the beautiful weather and last free days before they had to go home.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
But the peacefulness wouldn’t last as, on an exceptional warm and sunny day – the last Friday before they would leave the castle behind for the summer – alarms suddenly started to blare.  
Students rose from the spots in which they had rested in bewilderment and panic and it didn’t take long before the first teachers started to appear to guide the students back inside and towards their Common Room.  
  
Harry – who had been relaxing with his friends in the shade of a tree near the lake with lemonade made by the demon – had risen as soon as the alarms had sounded.  
“What’s going on?” he softly asked Hermione as students around them started to hastily make their way towards the castle under the watchful eyes of the teachers. The trio was barely visible from where the teachers were standing so they had yet to be called upon to move towards the castle.  
  
“The alarms only sound when the wards are under attack,” Hermione answered as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, “but I don’t… who would want to attack Hogwarts?”  
Harry and Ron shared a glance before Ron said hesitantly, “you don’t think that…?”  
“Who else?” Harry answered warily, “he _is_ the only one crazy enough to try.”  
“But he fears Dumbledore!” Hermione protested, “every book I’ve read about him states as much!”  
  
Michaelis cleared his throat and the trio flinched slightly before they whirled around.  
“Pardon me, but I believe it is time for you to make your way towards the castle,” the demon told them politely, though there was a slightly bloodthirsty glint in his eyes.  
The trio shared looks.  
“He is right,” Hermione said resolutely, “we should move.”  
Harry and Ron nodded and they broke in a sprint to catch up with the rest.  
  
They had almost caught up with the group of students and were nearly halfway to the castle when the sound of the alarm became what could be described as urgent. The students started to panic and the flock of fleeing people started to speed up. Some of the students couldn’t keep up and fell, only to be trampled by the group. Many students were wounded in those moments, some badly though most of them only had some sprains.  
  
The trio made sure to stay a bit behind the rest to pick up stragglers regardless of their houses and to avoid being caught in the crowd.  
  
The sound the alarms made grew in the meanwhile more and more urgent until they suddenly stopped making noise altogether.  
  
Silence fell as the students came to a halt; a heavy, oppressive silence like the silence before a storm.  
The teachers tried to get the students to move again but their heart wasn’t in it as it was clear that they were too distracted by the silence as well.  
  
A black trail of smoke suddenly appeared from the general direction of the Forbidden Forest and made its way over towards the castle and the group of students and teachers at a very high speed. It didn’t take long before a second trail of smoke appeared, followed closely by a third and fourth trail of black smoke. Everyone watched the path the trail of smoke made with something akin to frozen, horrified fascination. They knew that it couldn’t be something good but their curiosity stopped them from moving. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, and now it would possibly be the death of them.  
  
More and more trails of smoke started to appear and by the time the sky had turned black with the trails of smoke, the students panicked once again and started to run towards the castle.  
   
But it was already too late and the first trails of smoke landed in front of the group and turned into black robed, white masked persons. The flock of students came to an abrupt halt and started to run towards the sides of the people in front of them in an attempt to get around the newly arrived Death Eaters.   
  
But more and more trails of black smoke collided with the ground and turned into people.  
It didn’t take long before the students were caught in the middle of the thick circle of black robed men and women.  
  
Wands were drawn and pointed towards the crowd. The students and teachers retaliated by drawing their own wands but it was clear to everyone present that there was nothing they could do.  
They were not in the minority but most of the students had never duelled before and they had no experience with fighting, period. Add that there were a lot of wounded students with wounds that would hinder them and they were by far disadvantaged.  
And the teachers couldn’t act upon their wish to fight back as they had to protect the students.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped in front of some of the first years in an attempt to shield them at the same moment as Michaelis moved to stand in front of Harry. The demon’s back was turned towards them but it was clear to Harry that the being was completely relaxed. He didn’t seem to be worried about the black robed persons at all, in fact Harry was pretty sure that the crazy creature was _exited_.  
  
“Split up in the Houses you were sorted in!” one of the Death Eaters said in a gruff, growling voice.  
Some of the students started to move but it was clear that it wasn’t fast enough for the Death Eaters as a spell suddenly made its way from one of the wands into the cluster of students.  
  
One of the students was hit by the colourful beam and went down with a pained scream as blood started to spurt from the wounds which had started to appear on her torso. Blood kept oozing out of the wounds even as she tried to keep them closed and the student gurgled in pain.  
  
The students screamed and tried to get away from the wounded girl.   
Chaos reigned as teachers tried to reach the downed student and the students tried to sort themselves out the Houses they were sorted in as fast as possible so they wouldn’t get cursed.  
  
Finally, after at least five minutes in which people shouted, screamed, yelled, cursed, ducked curses and spells and pushed and pulled at each other a loud bang sounded and people stopped with whatever they were doing and turned to look at whoever had made the noise.  
The girl, in the meantime, had lost consciousness and was now laying silently on the ground, the large gashes still bleeding sluggishly.  
  
A new group of Death Eaters had appeared and at the head of the group stood one lonely Death Eater with his wand held high.  
“You have five minutes to split yourself up in groups,” the Death Eater said softly, his voice was smooth and aristocratic and it was clear to everyone that he knew how to handle large crowds.  
He waved his wand and five large banners appeared, four in the colours of the four houses and one with the crest of Hogwarts.   
  
Half of the circle of Death Eaters around the students and teachers moved away from the circle to form new, slightly smaller circles around the banners. Between the circles were pathways formed by the Death Eaters that had abided their time while standing behind the first circle of Death Eaters.  
The Death Eaters that had appeared with the leader joined them until five new, almost completely closed circles were formed – though everyone noticed that the circle around the Slytherin banner only contained a handful of Death Eaters. The wands were still trained towards the group.  
  
“Students are to go to the banner of their House, teachers are to go to the Hogwarts banner,” the lead Death Eater said and he waved his hand towards the banners in an almost dainty gesture before he repeated, “you have five minutes.”  
  
“And what if we were to stay here?” one brave student – Harry recognized him as a seventh year Gryffindor – asked and some of the other students, mostly his classmates and friends, nodded in agreement.  
The man’s wand lowered until it was pointed at the student that had opened his mouth, “ _Crucio_.”  
The student went down screaming and with him fell a couple of other students.  
  
“Dumbledore will get you for this!” one of the students next to the downed boy screamed as he tried to help the boy.  
The Death Eaters laughed loudly.  
“Our Lord is dealing with Dumbledore right now!” a female voice sounded before she cackled loudly, “your precious headmaster wouldn’t stand a chance!”  
The Death Eaters laughed again as another student yelled, “Dumbledore will win! Just you wait and see!”  
  
“Three minutes left,” the lead Death Eater suddenly said loudly as the other Death Eaters continued with laughing.  
Panic once again reigned and some of the other students quickly left the circle formed by Death Eaters to make their way over towards the banners, to the amusement of the Death Eaters.  
Some of the teachers tried to go towards the still screaming and twitching student and the students around him that tried to help him or the still heavily bleeding girl but the wands pointed towards them halted them in their approach and some of the less brave once grudgingly walked towards the Hogwarts banner. The rest was quickly sent towards the banner with some well-placed curses.  
  
The wands of the Death Eaters forming the small circle in the middle were slowly lowered as soon as it seemed that they were no longer necessary and they made their way over towards the lead Death Eater to stand behind him.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances before Hermione quickly grabbed Harry’s wand hand and dragged him after her as they made their way over towards the Gryffindor banner.  
Once there Fred and George pulled them in until they were hidden behind some of the other Gryffindors.  
  
“I don’t like this,” Harry hissed sharply but softly, “we should help defend the students not hide underneath a banner!”  
“They are probably after you!” Hermione snapped right back, “ _you_ are the one that defeated their Lord!”  
“And I would do it again if I had the chance!” Harry snarled as he narrowed his eyes, “this isn’t right!”  
“There is nothing you can do!” Hermione huffed as she raised her hands in the air in agitation, “you would be killed on the spot before you could even fire a spell towards them!”  
  
In the time they had been arguing the rest of their house had joined them – including the guy whom had been cursed for asking the wrong question at the wrong time – and every Gryffindor was either paying attention to the Death Eaters surrounding them or nodding along with what either Harry or Hermione was saying.  
  
Harry was about to say something else but Ron suddenly said, “Er… Harry, why is that creepy guy that follows you around still standing there?”  
Harry turned around so fast that he felt his neck snap but he didn’t care as his eyes fell on the relaxed and confident form of the demon who stood right next to the wounded girl. The crazy thing was studying her curiously as her breath stocked and small blood bubbles started to appear on her lips.   
  
It was clear to everyone present that she wouldn’t survive if no one would come to her aid in the next couple of minutes but there was nothing they could do. The teachers wanted to help but they couldn’t sacrifice themselves for just _one_ student and the students were in no position to help at all.  
  
“Why are you still standing here?” one of the Death Eaters said gruffly and everyone fell silent as their attention turned towards the one man – being – standing alone, “didn’t you hear us when we said that you had five minutes?”  
“I am neither a teacher nor a student,” the demon drawled patiently as he turned his attention towards the man who had spoken, “I didn’t see the need to move away from my spot.”  
  
The lead Death Eater made his way over towards the demon until he stood right in front of him.  
“And you are?” he asked as he bared his teeth in threat.  
“He is Potter’s servant,” a voice rang from the general direction of the Slytherin banner as Draco Malfoy elbowed his way forward until he stood at the very front of the group.  
“He follows him around everywhere,” Malfoy added with a sneer, “professor Snape has tested him for magic. He has no magic whatsoever.”  
  
The Death Eaters behind the lead Death Eater raised their wand almost immediately and pointed it towards the demon.  
“Our Lord warned us against _you_!” one of the Death Eaters drawled in disbelieve, “why would he warn us against going against some pretty boy without magic?”  
A ringing laugh sounded over the area as the demon threw his head back and expressed his amusement.  
“What are you laughing about?!” another Death Eater growled out.  
“You amuse me,” the demon said softly, amusement heavily coloured his voice.  
“Let’s see if you find us as amusing if we were to curse you!” the same Death Eater snarled but he was stopped by the lead Death Eater before he could fire a curse towards the creature.  
  
“Wait,” he told the other Death Eater, “it’s clear that he doesn’t care for his own wellbeing. Get Potter here! See if he reacts if we were to _hurt_ the brat in front of him.”  
“Touch him and I’ll assure you that you’ll not like the consequences,” Michaelis said pleasantly.  
“So you _do_ have a weak spot,” the Death Eater that had wanted to curse him crowed with pleasure, “good! Let’s curse Potter!”  
  
The caws of crows could be hurt loudly in the heavy silence and the sky darkened slightly, not enough that most people noticed but Harry had seen it happen before.  
“This will be your only warning,” the demon stated flatly, “touch him, _hurt_ him and I’ll be forced to hurt you in return.”  
“What can you do?” the same Death Eater mocked with a ugly sneer on his face, “you have no magic. You have _nothing_ that can help you here.”  
“Then why don’t you try me?” Michaelis said with a challenge in both his voice and his eyes, “or are you _afraid_ of me?”  
“Enough,” the lead Death Eater said irritated as the other Death Eater drew his wand and levelled it on the male in front of them, “bring Potter forward!”  
  
The demon’s mood plummeted immediately and the sky darkened regardless of how bright the sun or how cloudless said sky was. This time everyone noticed and people started to look around in fright.  
“Let me put is differently as you don’t seem to understand plain English,” the creature stated softly but dangerously, “touch him and I _will_ kill you!”  
The Death Eaters near the Gryffindor banner exchanged glances.  
  
“What could someone like you do?” the female Death Eater sniffed haughtily as she pranced forward on high heels, “you look weak, you have no magic and you seem incapable of hurting a _kitten_.”  
“I wouldn’t hurt a kitten, no,” Michaelis drawled as he shot her a close-lipped smile, “however, I wouldn’t think twice about hurting you.”  
He cocked his head, “or your precious Dark Lord.”  
The female Death Eater bared her stained teeth and growled angrily as she whipped her wand out.  
“You’ll pay for that!” she screeched as she moved towards him.  
  
“Bellatrix, enough!” the lead Death Eater told her sharply as drew his own wand. The witch ignored him in favour of flinging a curse towards Michaelis. The demon just stepped aside slowly.  
“Lestrange, _enough_!” barked harshly as he shot a spell towards her that caused her to drop her wand and the grab her wand-arm with a pained gasp.  
  
Harry heard Neville gasp softly from where he was standing and he shot him a concerned look.  
Neville just stood there, shaking like a leave as he stared at the glaring woman.  
“You alright?” he whispered softly but Neville didn’t respond.  
  
“Bring Potter here!” the lead Death Eater repeated impatiently and the sky darkened even further and black feathers started to fall.  
Glances were once again exchanged but two Death Eaters moved towards the Gryffindors and started to push them to the side so they could get to Harry.  
  
Michaelis suddenly moved with a speed so fast it made him nearly invisible and two thuds sounded as something silver collided with a high speed with the two Death Eaters. They fell down in the middle of the group Gryffindors; silver, slightly familiar knives sticking out of the back of their heads. The Gryffindors jumped away from the two bodies with terrified screams.  
  
Harry’s eyes shot towards the demon who suddenly didn’t stand there as relaxed as he did before. Sharp, silver knifes – the types you normally found on a table during dinner – were between his fingers, his eyes were once again red and slit and his teeth – all of them dangerously sharp – were bared in anger and bloodlust.  
“I warned you not to touch him,” Michaelis spoke softly and everyone’s attention shot back towards him, “but humans so rarely listen.”  
He smirked darkly at the downed men.  
  
Screams sounded as they took in the changes and the Death Eaters stepped away from him. The Gryffindors closest to Harry turned to look at him in horror.  
“W-what are _you_ ,” the lead Death Eater stuttered.  
One of the corners of the demon’s mouth twitched into his trademark closemouthed smile as the feathers stopped falling, “I’m just one Hell of a butler.”  
  
Another Death Eater suddenly stumbled backwards as he whispered, “those knifes. You killed Umbridge!”  
Gasps sounded as the smirk on the demon’s face grew larger and the teeth too turned back to normal, “why yes, yes I did.”  
“Why?” one of the teachers asked.  
“She hurt my little demon,” Michaelis said pleasantly, “and I’m the only one who is allowed to hurt him.”  
  
“Did you know?” Hermione asked Harry softly.  
“I suspected it,” Harry answered just as softly.  
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ron asked harshly, “everyone panicked because of that murder. They were afraid Voldemort was behind it! If you had just told anyone, than it would have been resolved within days!”  
“ _He_ is far worse than Voldemort will ever be,” Harry hissed sharply, “do you really think I _like_ the fact that he is always near me! He frightens me more than Voldemort could ever hope to!”  
Ron’s eyes widened in surprise at his confession.  
  
“Why do you care for him so much?” one of the teachers said almost frightened, “and why do you call him that?”  
Harry perked up, he had asked that very same question often but the demon had never answered him.  
“Because he is mine!” Michaelis said with dark amusement colouring his voice. But contrary to his pleasant tone his eyes narrowed in poisonous anger, his teeth were bared in an obvious threat and his skin colour started to darken slightly, “I’ve lost one child already and I’ll not lose another one!”  
Harry froze in shock at the being’s words as his mind repeated those words over and over again.  
No, he couldn’t possibly mean… he wasn’t… What did he mean?  
  
“Y-you are not h-human,” one of the Ravenclaws stuttered.  
“Ten points to Ravenclaw,” a soft sibilant voice sounded from behind them and people turned towards it slightly, too afraid to let the crazed creature out of their sights.  
Screams sounded once again as they came face to face with one of the most feared wizards in the world.  
  
Voldemort was dressed in plain black robes which concealed most of his body. His feet were bare and dirty with blood and gore and mud and things Harry didn’t want to know but everyone could see the sharp nails. His head was covered by a hood and only the red eyes – slightly darker than the demon’s hellish eyes had been and not as frightening – glowed from its depths. His wand was held lightly at his side by a clawed, pale hand.  
Blood liberally decorated his robes.  
  
The Death Eaters bowed towards him and people started to scream louder as they started to back away from him.  
Voldemort raised the hand not holding the wand and removed the hood of his cloak so everyone could see the pale, bald face with the snake-like nose. His eyes travelled towards the two dead Death Eaters.  
“Tsk, I warned you not to attack the Potter boy,” he spoke softly, a dark amusement not unlike that of the demon coloured his tone, “or challenge his servant.”  
  
The lead Death Eater walked forward, “is it done, My Lord?”  
Voldemort turned towards him, “hm? Oh yes, Dumbledore has been defeated. Hogwarts is ours!”  
The Death Eaters and some of the Slytherin students started to cheer loudly at his words.  
Harry – who had been shaken out of his shock by the appearance of Voldemort – shared a look of despair with Neville.  
  
“What about the students, My Lord?” the female Death Eater – Bellatrix Lestrange – asked eagerly once they had stopped cheering.  
“They can either join our ranks or die,” Voldemort stated loudly so everyone could hear him, “and I want every Mudblood separated from the rest.”  
Cries of denial could be heard from all the Houses – even Slytherin – and the teachers even as the Death Eaters cheered once again.  
  
Harry turned towards Hermione who had a truly defeated look upon her face and anger suddenly overwhelmed him.  
He fought his way through the throng of Gryffindor students until he stood at the very front.  
“We will never join you!” he spat loudly and silence fell as everyone turned towards him and wands were suddenly raised his way, “you and your Death Eaters can go straight to Hell, where you belong!”  
“Actually,” the demon started to say but he was interrupted by the outraged shouts and the curses shot towards Harry.  
  
Hermione and Ron fought their way towards him as soon as those words left his mouth but the curses fired towards him would reach him before they ever could.  
  
“No Harry!” and “Potter, no!” sounded from the rest of the Gryffindors, the teachers, the Ravenclaws, the Hufflepuffs  and even some of the Slytherins and spells suddenly came from everywhere to either protect him or to take out the Death Eaters.  
People started to retaliate. Death Eaters hit by spells from the students fired their own spells back and students chose to fight to get their freedom back.  
  
But the spells – both to hurt and to defend – never reached Harry as Michaelis had appeared in front of him to act as his shield.  
  
“Tsk, tsk, such anger,” he reprimanded Harry, “it will get you in such trouble one day!”  
“Stay out of this,” Harry snarled at him as he bared his own teeth.  
The only reaction he got from the demon was a malicious smile filled with extremely sharp teeth before he turned towards Voldemort.  
“Remember what we spoke about that night?” he asked him lightly, “that still goes.”  
  
But Voldemort ignored him in favour of taking out some of the more experienced teachers.  
Harry, in the meantime, had used the demon’s inattention to throw himself in the fight. He had formed a triangle with Ron and Hermione and together they took out either the Death Eaters closest to them or those Death Eaters who chose to go after the first and second years.  
Other students nearby followed their example and started to fight back to back.  
  
Teachers – the ones which weren’t fighting Voldemort – were fighting their way towards the younger students while ordering older students to get them together in an attempt to protect them.  
The Slytherins had turned on each other. Some of them fought for Voldemort’s side, other fought to get their freedom back.  
  
Most of the students of the other houses tried to fight back while some tried to flee from the battle all together.  
A very small minority of the students had turned on their own classmates.  
  
The battle went on and on but after a while it became clear that those who wanted their freedom back were slowly but surely defeated. The students third year and below weren’t experienced enough to defend themselves against the Death Eaters and the teachers and students who were capable of defending themselves and others were taken out one by one by either Voldemort or the Death Eaters.  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ron were still mostly fine. Hermione had a nasty cut above her eyes which caused blood to leak into said eyes and Ron had been hit by some kind of bone breaking curse which had broken his left arm. Harry on the other hand only sported some small cuts. But that was all.  
  
It wasn’t until Harry got hit by an overpowered curse which broke the skin of his right upper arm and which shattered the bone beneath it that the battle truly turned into a bloodbath.  
A soft pained sound escaped his mouth as he felt the bones break and the skin tear but that was enough to get the attention of the demon.  
  
Michaelis, who had been just standing there after he had told Voldemort his enigmatic remark while looking amused, suddenly looked extremely lethal. His eyes turned once again into their red, slit counterparts and his skin darkened to a light grey. At the same time the sky started to darken at a frightening degree until it was a shade of darkness normally associated with a heavy thunderstorm and feathers started to fall at a high speed and in massive quantities.  
People stopped fighting in favour of trying to figure out what was going on and slowly the streaks of light originating from wands died down. But the feathers kept falling.  
  
“I warned you,” the creature said with a fang-filled sneer and everyone – even Voldemort – turned towards him. The demon raised his left hand towards his mouth and removed the glove away completely to show neatly trimmed, black nails and a pentagram on the back of his hand.  
“Demon,” Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and fearful. The persons closest to her heard and softly repeated it until it reached the rest of the student body.  
  
“Why did you bind yourself to a demon?” Hermione asked Harry mournfully, “do you know what these… these _things_ do to a soul?”  
“I didn’t bind myself to him,” Harry said tiredly as he cradled his arm carefully against his body, “he stuck himself to me like a god-damned leech. I never asked for this, for _him_.”  
Hermione just looked at him fearfully, “maybe you did so without remembering.”  
“No,” Harry told her strongly, “I didn’t.”  
  
“As amusing as this is,” Voldemort said sibilantly, but he sounded as if he found it anything but amusing, "I have a battle to win. Just kill the one responsible for hurting _your little demon_ already.”  
“You have already lost,” Michaelis told him with a smirk which looked more like a snarl.  
  
“No, I have not,” Voldemort told him strongly even as he lowered his wand and bared his vulnerable throat in an almost submissive pose. Everyone, even his Death Eaters, gaped at his very out of character behaviour.  
“I ordered them to leave the boy alone, “Voldemort hissed in an aggressive way which contrasted with his posture, “you can take whoever hurt him but you’ll _not_ take my victory away.”  
The demon stalked forward until he stood nose to face with the Dark Lord.  
“Did you now?” he drawled as he studied Voldemort’s face. He suddenly shot forward and bit down harshly into his throat before he retreated.  
  
The bite marks bled heavily but Voldemort didn’t seem to feel it, nor did he seem to care about the fact that he had just been bitten by a demon. Harry’s scar did burn harshly though, which showed that Voldemort was beyond angry.  
  
“Let this be your warning,” Michaelis stated with narrowed eyes, “your _last_ one.”  
Voldemort lowered his head back down and nodded sharply even as he drew his wand and conjured what seemed to be bandages around his throat. Harry didn’t doubt that he could have easily healed the bite so he wondered why he hadn’t.  
  
The demon turned back around – the demonic features had once again disappeared though the sky was still dark and the feathers were still falling – and took a couple of steps towards Harry before he was forced to stop by an almost white spell which hit him in the middle of his back.  
Michaelis growled in annoyance before he turned around to face whoever was brave enough to dare to attack him.  
  
Harry watched in surprise as Snape stepped forward, his wand extended towards the demon and his lips curled back in an ugly sneer.  
He murmured something and the same, almost white spell appeared at the tip of his wand and sped towards the creature.  
Michaelis ducked just in time to avoid it but he _was_ hit by the second spell Snape had sent towards him.  
  
The demon snarled and bared his teeth but he came to a stop and Harry watched in surprise as red blood started to leak from the spot the spell had hit him.  
“That hurt, didn’t it?” Snape drawled satisfied as he studied his handy work. He smirked darkly at the being.  
Michaelis straightened and whipped the blood away from his mouth with his bared hand.  
  
“I found some interesting tomes this year,” Snape said almost controversially as he stalked forward like the demented, crazed bat Harry had always believed to be just a exaggerated tale made up by the older Gryffindors, “they were about your kind. How one could summon one, how one were to bind them to them and how one could _destroy_ one.”  
“I would like to see you try,” the demon told him arrogantly and he moved forwards until he stood in front of the snarky potions master. His eyes were red and slit but that was the only change Harry could see. It was as if the demon wasn’t even afraid of Snape _or_ his spells.  
  
“With pleasure,” Snape replied and he bared his own stained teeth in a crazed smirk. He raised his wand higher and pointed it straight at the creature.  
The demon’s eyes never left those of Snape and crazed, wild black stared in demonic red as the potions master started to chant in an unknown language.  
A small ball of glaring bright light started to appear at the tip of his wand and it grew larger and larger as he chanted.  
  
He chanted the last tones of the spell triumphantly before he lopped the spell towards the demon.  
“Now you die!” Snape gloated with a strange gleam in his eye as the light approached the demon slowly. It highlighted the demon’s human features and made them grotesque as it impacted with his chest. The light grew larger and larger until it had swallowed the demon completely.  
The light glowed brightly for a few moments until it died out completely.  
  
Nothing was left of the demon, no body and no ash. And with the disappearance of the demon the feathers stopped falling, the sky lightened, the sun shone brightly once again and the birds – whom had fallen silent with no one knowing – started to sing again.  
Snape – and everyone else conscious enough to pay attention to the scene – blinked in surprise at the sight before he turned towards Voldemort.   
  
“He is gone, My Lord,” Snape said with a small bow. The crazed look in his eyes had yet to disappear and the triumphal gleam only made him appear even more unhinged.  
“Do you have any idea what you have done?” Voldemort asked him with a raised eyebrow.  
“I killed the demon,” Snape said blankly.  
  
“You can’t kill a demon,” Hermione explained softly to Harry and Ron, “ _Demons, Myth and Truth_ said that whatever is left of their soul is send back to Hell after which they return. No one has ever survived an attempt to kill a demon.”  
“Why do you think he did it?” Ron asked curiously.  
“Sh!” Hermione hissed, “professor McGonagall asked the same thing.  
  
“Lily,” was all Snape said, “I did it for Lily.”  
“You tried to _kill_ a demon for a _mudblood_ who has been _dead_ for over 15 years?” the Lestrange woman demanded to know sharply.  
“ _Lily_ is not a _mudblood_ , do _not_ call her that!” Snape sneered rabidly and spit flew everywhere as he bared his teeth in a snarl, “that _thing_ raped her.”  
Gasps sounded and Harry was aware as most of those present turned towards him to gape.  
“But now it’s _gone_!” Snape crowed, “she is _finally_ avenged!”  
He sounded crazed and unhinged and his smile and the gleam in his eyes only made him appear as a broken madman.  
  
“Do you really think that you actually _killed_ me?” a malicious but amused voice sounded from behind the small group, “do you really believe that I’m _dead_?”  
And just as sudden as the sky had lightened did it darken again. The sun was completely swallowed within a second and black shadows rose from the ground and from where the sun had once been. They came together in the middle to turn the entire surrounding in a nightmarish, hellish version of what it had been just a peaceful, sunny day.  
  
“Humans are so very amusing,” it continued dryly, “so very convinced that they are always _right_.”  
The shrill laughter of crows could be heard.  
  
“My little demon, do you remember what I told you that night?” the voice almost purred soothingly, “close your eyes.”  
Harry hesitated between doing as told – mostly due to the fear coursing through his veins – and wanting to know what the demon was hiding. He weighted his options quickly before he closed his eyes. Unknown to him, some of the students followed his example.  
“Good boy,” the demon cooed.  
  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
The sound of high heels clicking on something sounded loudly in the silence.   
It sounded ominous and strangely otherworldly. Threateningly so.  
The Dark Lord turned around just as a dark shape disengaged itself from the lengthening shadows, though all that could be seen were its glowing, demonic red eyes, the sharp, thin teeth, high-heeled stilettos and lethal claws. It was frightening but it wasn’t after him so he didn’t react beyond the carnal reactions: his heartbeat quickened and his breathing picked up slightly  
  
“You really shouldn’t trust everything you read,” the creature said mockingly as it neared them, “especially not when it’s written by humans. Humans are biased and always convinced what _they_ write down is the only truth that matters. Demons are unholy in your eyes, so holy things – spells, potions, blessed items – should be able to hurt us. But we – not unlike the angels – are neither holy nor unholy. Neither are we ‘good’ nor ‘evil’.”  
  
Snape snarled as the being stopped in front of him. Voldemort noticed in somewhat wicked misplaced amusement that he glared darkly at its fuchsia coloured eyes.  
“You are as dark as they come,” he spat, “that spell should have blasted you into oblivion.”  
“And it would have,” the demon said amused as it plucked his wand from his hand and twirled it around, “had I not been who I am.”  
It bared its teeth at him in an amused, shark-like grin as it exerted pressure on the wand until the part held in his hand splintered.  
  
The Death Eaters around them reacted almost immediately as the sharp snapping sound broke them out of whatever trance they had been in and spells were fired towards the ominous cloud which partially hid the being. All spells reached the cloud but nothing happened.  
“Stand down,” he braked sharply. It wouldn’t do to lose any of his Death Eaters when the demon wasn’t even after them.  
  
One Death Eater – a particularly dense one as he wouldn’t listen to either him _or_ the demon – took a different approach and shot a spell towards the Potter brat, whose eyes were still closed.  
But it never reached the blasted boy as the demon moved once again in front of him to shield him.   
A clawed hand was raised and the being softly, _gently_ , caressed the boy’s jaw line – the boy shivered as the hand touched him and Voldemort could feel the boy’s foreign fear enter his mind – before the creature turned around and _gutted_ the Death Eater who had dared to raise wand towards the boy with the exact same hand. The man fell down with blood spilling from his lips.  
The demon smirked down at the dying man before he looked up again.  
  
“Such an unpleasant form, this. It’s disgusting,” it told them casually as it finally dropped the now useless pieces of wood, “it’s filthy, tainted, shadowed. But it _is_ good for some things. Angels are weak, even archangels. They have rules and regulations. All demons have is chaos. Chaos and power.”  
It raised the with blood covered clawed hand, seemingly to study it, “humans on the other hand are… difficult to comprehend. But amusing. You’ll do anything to get what you want. You even go so far as to drag others with you as you fall.”  
  
Suddenly the being shot forward until he stood in front of Snape.  
“You are not different from your father at all,” it crooned at him, “both headstrong, both willing to sacrifice everything to reach that one goal you so desperately want to reach. He believed that he deserved all the riches in the world. When your mother wouldn’t give it to him with the help of her magic he beat her until she died. You wanted Lily Potter so badly that you were willing to sacrifice both her husband and her son.”  
  
Snape snarled silently at the creature standing in front of him.  
A clawed hand suddenly shot out and those sharp nails were slowly – cruelly so – dragged over his face until they reached his left eye. They left deep scratches behind wherever they had touched which bled heavily. The creature paused briefly before it plunked the nail into his eye socket.  
  
Snape breathed in a pained breath as his eye was punctured and the sight disappeared before he released a harsh, anguished and surprised sounding scream. Voldemort felt almost jealous as he had never been able to get the dour man to make even the slightest sound beyond soft whimpers even when he had held him under the Cruciatus curse.  
  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
He breathed heavily through his nose at the pain radiating through him. He had never felt such pain before, not even when Lily had been taken away from him. The removal of his eye and the subsequent hit on the nerves behind it sent shockwave after shockwave of pain through his entire brain. He had never believed that something like that could hurt so much.  
  
He couldn’t blink as the fingers were still inside the cavity and his other eye started to tear up. The pain also caused his knees to buckle and the only thing keeping him standing straight were the clawed fingers wrapped tightly around his throat.  
  
The slick movement of hot blood making its way down his cheek could be felt and the splashing sounds of multiple persons throwing up could be heard but he was too tired and too hurt to pay much attention to it.  
  
The demon retracted its claw savagely and it cocked its head as it studied the liquid, bloody mess which had once been his eye before it raised its head to stare him. He couldn’t read its expression due to his blurry vision – or what was left of it – but he had the feeling that the thing was curious what his reaction would be. It was just playing with him like a cat would play with a mouse. Voldemort had tried that before and he had never succeeded. The demon, however, had managed to get underneath his skin and it had made him _fear_ it. He was now paying the price for his own foolishness.  
  
Contrary to what the demon had said the spell _was_ real. He had already tried it out on several other demons – all different types of demons with different powers and strengths – before he had even dared to try it out on the creature in front of him. And all had ended up as a heap of ash and burned bones and flesh.  
So why was this demon still around?  
  
“Turning to ash is not the same thing as _dying_ ,” the demon chuckled lightly as it flicked its hand. The gore of his eye flew everywhere and some of the Death Eaters stumbled backwards as it hit them. Voldemort on the other hand just stood there as the mess hit him without reacting. The snakelike man studied them in fascination; his slit, red eyes were glowing with emotions he would have been able to read on a normal day when he _wasn’t_ being tortured by the pain radiating through him.  
  
One sharp nail was teasingly dragged over his other cheek until an angry red, lightly bleeding spiral was decorating his cheek.  
The other hand, the one holding him up by his throat, was moved until the nails disappeared into his neck. It hurt but it was nothing compared to where his eye had been and he didn’t even feel the blood that was most likely seeping into his heavy robes.  
  
The demon’s free hand slowly made its way downwards as the creature dug his nails randomly into muscles, flesh and tendons. It didn’t create more scratches nor did it pull anything out, it just created nail shaped holes everywhere. Some of the holes were to the bone in which case the nails had damaged the muscles and tendons badly, other holes were shallow and hurt more than they should.  
  
Five sharp tips were suddenly pressed lightly against the right side of his chest before they were slowly forced inside. They effortlessly broke the skin and bones underneath until they pierced the lung. It seemed as if the demon had gotten bored with just randomly piercing his skin.  
“That could have been your heart,” the damned creature stated softly as it pulled its hand back harshly. He hissed in pain as muscles, flesh, lung tissue and bones were ripped away.  
  
“Don’t worry,” the demon said pleasantly as it whipped its hand of on his clothes, “a human can live with just one lung. Or so I heard.”  
It smirked at him.  
“Will you hurry up?” Voldemort suddenly demanded, “your ‘ _little demon’_ is about to faint and some of us have other things to do.”  
  
The creature retracted both its hands and turned away from him and he let himself fall down.  
He felt more than he saw it as the demon moved away from him.  
He heard it speak softly – its tone soft and gentle like the cooing of a dove – before it returned.  
“How would you like to die?” it asked him curiously, “I’m partially to ripping open your gut and removing your intestines.”  
He just gurgled as blood had started to leak into his other lung. He would have liked to say a lot of things but he was aware that he couldn’t. One of the nails had managed to hit the hyoid and it had severed some of the vocal cords.  
  
“Removing your intestines it is,” the demon stated as a dark smirk made its way upon its visage as it crouched down next to him.  
“I considered eating your soul,” it told him as its hand gently caressed his stomach, “it’s tainted with so much suffering and so much guilt. It would have been delicious. But alas, I’ve seen what a crazy soul does to a demon so I’ll refrain from devouring yours.”  
  
The nails dug into the skin of his stomach and tore it open. The creature reached inside the opening with the same hand and started to remove whatever it could reach.  
“Any last things you want to say?” it drawled gleefully.  
He coughed in return. Both knew that he would never speak again.  
  
He just stared up at the demon with his remaining eye. He knew that he looked like a mess and he knew that his eye probably reflected his pain and his loss but he was beyond caring.  
He could blink one last time before everything turned black and the pain disappeared.  
  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
 Voldemort watched impatiently as the demon rose before he raised his hand and licked the blood – and whatever else had managed to stick to the nails – away.  
“It’s a shame he had gone mad,” he sighed lightly as the shadow thickened and the shape of a man started to form. It didn’t take long before the seemingly human butler stood in front of them.  
  
He stalked forward until he stood in front of Potter. The boy was pale and shivering and the link between him was alive with pain and fear and memories of gore and cloaks.  
“Keep your eyes closed,” he told him sternly as he carefully picked him up and cradled him close before he turned towards him, “I suggest you leave the children alone, regardless of their _background_.”  
  
“Now why would I do that?” Voldemort drawled darkly. He wasn’t stupid enough to challenge the demon but he also wasn’t about to throw his plans away for said damned creature.  
“Because they can learn,” the demon said before he started to move towards the castle, “they can be taught if you have the means.”  
  
Voldemort watched until the being and his burden had disappeared into the school.  
“My Lord?” the Death Eater he had ordered to lead murmured softly.  
“Let the children go,” he finally ordered after a couple of tense minutes, “the demon is right. They are young still, they can learn.”  
He turned hooded eyes towards the students and took in the many wounds.  
“Herd them into the castle,” he finally ordered, “make sure that those who are incapable of walking and those who have broken bones are brought to the Hospital Wing. Those with minor wounds are to be brought to the Great Hall. Dismissed!”  
  
The Death Eaters bowed lowly before they did as he had ordered and it didn’t take long before he was alone on the field with just the dead bodies of some of the students as teachers as his company. Snape – even though he had never been too sure of his loyalty – was the only important Death Eater he had lost.  
  
All his plans had worked out and he had won but he felt strangely _empty_.  
Dumbledore was dead, Potter was still alive, the demon was not out to kill him and both Hogwarts and the Ministry were his.  
  
But for how long?


	5. Dark Lords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: death, drama and teen angst.

Harry pressed his face deeper into the pillow, too tired and too weary to care about the near empty dorm room in which he was lying. The others had chosen to sleep elsewhere so they wouldn’t have to deal with him and his _pet_ demon. He was aware that only the fear for the demon had stopped them from kicking _him_ out of the dorm room; or the common room for that matter.

  
Apparently, demons were seen as something even worse than creatures like vampires, giants and werewolves and their offspring – normally referred to as ‘spawn’ – were killed on sight as soon as they were discovered. Harry had only been spared because Voldemort had ordered everyone to leave him alone and because the demon that had probably sired him was always around him.  
  
It had only been a month since the Battle of Hogwarts – as everyone had chosen to call it – but he was already wishing that it had never happened. Hell, he would’ve preferred to have been killed over the loneliness he now had to live with.  
  
Strangely enough, very little had changed for them after Voldemort had managed to seize both Hogwarts and the Ministry.  
The Ministry was still in hands of the ever bumbling Fudge though Voldemort reigned supreme, people were still being murdered by Voldemort’s lackeys and Voldemort’s very name still managed to cause people to flinch.   
And even though there were some new laws, there were no new laws specifically against Muggleborns or creatures, no unfair apprehensions and no new decrees against Muggles. The strangest thing however was that every Death Eater who went against the laws was apprehended and killed by Voldemort himself.  
  
Just like the Ministry, Hogwarts had changed little. Some teachers – including Dumbledore and Snape – might have been killed and Voldemort might have taken the job as the headmaster but the student were al treated fairly and no one was tortured. Even the muggleborns were still as welcome as they had been before Hogwarts had been seized.  
Though that wasn’t quite right either, Voldemort had given quite the speech the day after the battle in which he had stated that blood didn’t matter, but _power_ and _knowledge_ did. And that the Wizarding World needed new blood to make sure that stagnation wouldn’t destroy it.  
Some people had complained but the Muggleborns and halfbloods had been treated better ever since.  
  
New teachers and new subjects had made their way into school and, while there was a slight bias towards the Dark, even Hermione – when she had still been talking to him – had admitted that the new subjects could be useful once they had graduated.  
  
However, a lot of things _had_ changed for _Harry_.  
His own House had turned against him soon after they had found out that the creature always following him around was a demon and that he _might be_ his father. Some stuck by him for a couple of days – some even a couple of weeks – but they all turned away from him soon after.  
Apparently even the House of Bravery wasn’t above fearing him, not even after all the years they had known him. Some took longer to turn away from him but the horror stories told by the others made sure that, eventually, they had all left him.  
  
His friends had stayed with him slightly longer but even they had turned away from him.  
Hermione, who had been raised with the idea that demons – while just mythical creatures – were the worst beings to have ever roamed the world as they were known to kill, torture and hurt for fun, couldn’t live with the idea that demons were real. She had been the first friend to leave him.  
Ron, out of sheer fear and his love for Hermione, had been the second friend to flee – as that was the only way to describe it.   
  
Harry couldn’t blame them as he too didn’t want to have to deal with the demon but it still made him feel so very lonely and unwanted. And it hurt. It hurt so much to know that he had once again been abandoned for something he had no say in.  
  
The demon and his catty, pleased smiles didn’t make him feel better or wanted either. Especially as the damn creature enjoyed making others feel uncomfortable.  
He was too pleased with the fact that everyone feared him and that they would rather move closer to Voldemort than stay near him. Harry had caught him smirking at someone with his teeth bared more than once.  
  
And he _still_ hadn’t managed to ask the demon if he was his father and how that had happened. He knew that the reason behind his hesitation was just because he was, harshly said, a coward.  
He _didn’t_ _want_ to know if he truly was a demon spawn as his classmates liked to call him – it reminded him a little bit too much of the Dursleys – and he _didn’t_ _want_ to know if his mother truly had been raped.  
He rather lived the rest of his life with the delusion that he was the son of James Potter than that he had to come to terms with the fact that the Dursleys had been right to call him a freak.  
  
He groaned pitiful into his pillow at the thought, only to stiffen as the soft sound of shoes on stone reached his ears.  
“That Dark Lord of yours wants to see you before the train leaves,” a soft murmur reached his ear as the curtains were opened, “and we can’t let him wait, now can we?”  
He grumbled into his pillow but didn’t bother with either moving or just lifting his head, not even when the demon removed the covers and left him lying on his bed in just his pyjama’s.  
  
He didn’t want to see the demon now probably looming over him, he didn’t want to face the murderer of his parents – whom had decided a little over a week ago that he would make an excellent apprentice – and he didn’t want to end up getting stared, hissed and spit at by his schoolmates.  
  
For the first time ever did he miss the dark loneliness of the cupboard under the stairs. He missed having no idea how having friends felt and he missed having only hate and disdain broadcasted upon him when his caretakers looked at him. But most of all, he missed the easy, simple life he had had when it had just been him against the world. It had been easier back then; he had known whom he could trust and whom to stay far away from. He had known the _rules of life_ back then.  
  
He wanted to laugh bitterly but refrained from doing so as he knew that the blasted creature would act upon it. He didn’t want people to end up dead because of him, he never had and he probably never would.  
  
“Come now, my little demon,” the damned creature’s voice cooed into his ear, “it’s such a beautiful morning and I’m sure you would like to hear what that amusing mortal has to say!”  
Gentle but firm hands forced him to turn over until he was lying on his back but he still squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that he probably looked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  
He had never been a child and he had never thrown a temper tantrum before, the Dursleys and their behaviour towards him had made sure of that.  
  
He ground his teeth together in anger and balled his hands into fists as his mood turned from sadness and the feeling of betrayal to a burning anger.  
Why was it always him that had to do what others wanted from him? Why couldn’t he, for once, do whatever he wanted, even if it was hiding in his room like a small child. What had he ever done to deserve this all?  
And why couldn’t he, for once, speak his mind? Before the whole mess with the demon he couldn’t because it might hurt some of his friends or their families and he didn’t want them to leave. Now he couldn’t because it would end with the death of quite a few persons.  
  
He was done with them, all of them. He had had it with the demon and his habits of treating him like a small child, he had had it with his schoolmates whom treated him either like the next coming of the _devil_ or their own personal _saviour_ , he was done with his friends whom kept abandoning him and he had had it with Voldemort who appeared to attempt to mould him in a near copy of him.  
  
He felt like he was about to explode with all the anger inside of him but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone!  
  
His eyes flew open and he glared at the blurry face hanging above his.  
“Tell Voldemort he can go to Hell,” he spat mulishly, “I don’t want to see him.”  
The demon didn’t react for a couple of seconds before he carefully slipped his glasses on his nose and everything turned sharp. He wished he hadn’t as suddenly he came face to face with amused hellish eyes and a dark smirk that bared sharp teeth.  
“As you wish, little demon,” he murmured with the same dark amusement he showed in his smirk, “in that case: the train will leave in about one hour. You might want to get up for a shower and some breakfast before you leave. Unless you want me to _carry_ you towards the bathroom?”  
  
Harry glared darkly at him – which only seemed to amuse the demon even more – but he did get up and he did walk towards the bathroom. The demon followed him into the bathroom and helped him strip before he removed his own jacket and gloves and joined him in the shower to wash him.   
He batted at the hands washing him – irritated with the same behaviour that would have embarrassed him a year ago – but the demon just hummed and continued until he was clean.  
  
The damned being left him with his foul mood to dry himself so he could pack his school items and clothing in his trunk.  
  
In the end, he managed to catch the train with ten minutes to spare.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
Vernon wasn’t waiting for him in King’s Cross but he didn’t let that bother him. He had already released Hedwig so she could follow him home and her cage was hidden in his trunk so he swiftly left the station to catch a cab. The demon followed him at a slower pace, a very smug, catty grin which managed to attract a lot of attention from some of the women in the station on his ageless face.  
  
It didn’t take long before the cab turned into Little Whinging and Harry felt as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He may hate the Dursleys but at least he _knew_ what to expect from them.  
And with the demon at his back they weren’t _that_ bad.  
  
His dreams of a somewhat normal summer crashed as soon as they reached Privet Drive.  
The entire street was filled with police cars and ambulances and numbers three to five appeared to be blocked by a police cordon. When they came closer it quickly became clear why. Where number four used to be was now just a blackened skeleton of a house. Placed in front of the house were three large stakes on which three familiar heads were planted. Their bodies – or what he assumed were their bodies – were covered by large white sheets but the blood still managed to stain them.  
Four persons dressed in the uniform of a coroner were attempting to remove the heads but it didn’t appear as if they success with their attempt.  
  
Wordlessly he turned towards the demon, too shocked and too horrified to say anything. But the demon just stared at the burned out house with a glint in his eyes.  
  
“Where was it that you wanted to be dropped off?” the cabbie asked nervously as he stared at the closed off street.  
“Number seven, Privet Drive,” the demon answered smoothly, “you can stop here. We can walk.”  
The cabbie looked ready to protest but the creature handed him some money before he ushered a still shocked Harry from the car and took his trunk from the car.  
  
The hellish being waited until the cab had left before he turned towards Harry.  
“That amusing Lord wanted to speak with you,” he repeated, “I believe he wanted to tell you that there was a change in your guardianship.”  
A dark smirk appeared on his face and he bared his teeth, “your last guardians had an unfortunate encounter. Voldemort is – as you are now his apprentice – your guardian.”  
  
Harry closed his eyes as he felt one of the last pieces of his small world fall apart around him.  
  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
The door slammed open with a bang but he didn’t look up from the papers he was reading.  
 **** _“:Why did you do it?:”_ was hissed sharply at him and he finally looked up to see the green, enraged eyes he had expected to see. Behind the boy stood his father; the demonic eyes shone in amusement and glee, though his face was emotionless.  
“Because they were in my way,” he answered matter-of-factly, “therefore, I had them removed.”  
The boy’s eyes flashed angrily, “I’ll never accept you or your _ideas_! I’ll not go dark!”  
  
He smirked at him, “you don’t have to. I’m your guardian, that’s all that matters.”  
“Only until I’m seventeen!” the teenager spat, “after that I free from _you_.”  
“Ah, but where will you go once you _turn seventeen_?” he asked mockingly, “as your master I’m to provide you with food, shelter, clothing and money until you finished your apprenticeship. And no one else will accept you if you were to walk away from your apprenticeship with _me_. Besides, your _friends_ abandoned you.”  
“It doesn’t matter,” the boy said determinedly, “I’ll manage. I managed on my own for fourteen years, I can take care of myself.”  
  
“Time will tell,” he answered with a dark smirk. The demon answered his smirk with a similar dark look.  
“Time always tells,” he finished softly.


End file.
